


The fireball in Jarasevo

by Congar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 100,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Congar/pseuds/Congar
Summary: A prince, a bar maiden. Born and raised in worlds apart, one on top, and one below the castle. Two Boss Monster who should never have met, but as we all know, ruled an Underground, together.Before resets, before fallen children, before war, love was found, but how? Two monsters on opposite side of the spectrum of life, how did they come together?A prince turned king, with a queen on his side.This is how the candle between them was ignited.





	1. Castle on the hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cover art by BANO Akira!](http://banoakira.tumblr.com/post/173501595132/colored-sketch-commissions-full-bodybust-shot%20rel=)

  


“Again.”

Asgore takes the outstretched hand in his. He’s helped up on his feet, and pointed towards the other side of the sparring ring.

“Come at me from the right side this time!”

Once back to where he began not but five seconds earlier, Asgore readjusts his grip on his training staff while breathing out some of the previous attack’s impact. He collects some air, circles his foot backwards to get into the proper stance, and lunges forward.

The dust his foot dragged up barely has time to settle before Asgore lands hard on his back again. He coughs from the hard fall, and heaves an involuntary grunt from landing on his training staff.

“I’ll go get the shearing scissors,” Gerson informs with a disappointment smile as he leans over Asgore’s head. “You clean yourself off. Scrub hard so that maybe you’ll get some of that patheticness off. Right now the dust on the ground is more worth than the dust making you up.”

“Are you gonna take it all away?” Asgore asks with worry trembling like an earthquake throughout his entire sentence. “It’s finally starting to thicken up from last time.”

“Don’t give me more reasons to shave it all off, prince. We made a deal, remember?”

“B-but,” Asgore pleads, “I did my best.”

“So did the animals you have for dinner when you’re visiting the humans, but you still eat them, don’t you? Not talking about the snails, although those might be a closer comparison to your performance right now. Are you perchance sneaking a couple away to snack on, my dear prince? Are you rewarding yourself despite not earning it? No wonder that you’re curling up like one right now!”

Asgore looks away with his lips trembling. It only summons a hearty laugh from Gerson. “Once your skin gets as thick as you want your beard to be you’ll get to keep it,” he offers as he shoves the end of his staff underneath Asgore’s back and bends it up. “Now up with you.”

Asgore sits up as the stick pushes uncomfortably against his spine. He rubs the spot with his hand. “How long are we two gonna train like this?”

“Until you’re a king, whelp. From what I reckon though it might end up to be my life’s work. Literally. Sometimes I curse the length of my life, especially when I’m asked to shape thunder out of a snail filled pillow. Make sure I don’t regret it even more, Asgore. Dismissed!”

With heavy steps Asgore makes his way across the training yard. A small sob catches Gerson’s ears, and he throws his hand up in the air while sighing loudly. “Don’t clean yourself off with your snot and tears! Use the bath instead!”

Despite his best effort to hide it, the clearly visible flinch from Asgore has Gerson sighing one more time. He rubs his forehead. “They say that the king has the greatest weight on his shoulder, but no sympathy is spared towards the monster that made sure those shoulders are fit to handle it!”

“With all due respect, sir,” voices a nearby guard as Asgore closes the door behind him, “you’re pretty rough against him. He’d beat any of us one to one as he is, and he’s only-”

With a quick and loud snap of his finger, Gerson silences the dog. “You preface with respect, but you speak up against a superior, which is the complete opposite of respect. I thought that was the first thing you were taught in basics. Seems to have slipped you. Allow me to remind you.” Gerson spins his staff around, and thrusts it towards the dog’s muzzle. He stops it barely a hair’s length from hitting the monster. “You will refrain from questioning my role,” Gerson informs with a voice so filled with authority that it almost drowns the quivering dog, “and you will have faith in how I proceed with it, understood?”

“Y-yes!” The guard takes a bow. Gerson manages to tilt the staff away just before the dog hits her head on it. “Sorry, sir!”

“For me to mold a king I first have to break him down. I have to find where things hurt on him so that I can steel him. Steel isn’t even enough for him, he has to be nothing less than diamond sturdy. Once he can take all of you down with as little as a soft look is when I might start thinking of giving him some room to breathe. Only to take the proud air right out of him.”

The guard keeps her bow. “I understand, I was mistaken in questioning you.”

“No, you weren’t.” Gerson beckons for the guard to stand up straight. “You witnessed what you thought was a transgression in the protection and furthering of Asgore’s training, and you voiced it to the one responsible for that action. That takes vigor.”

“T-thank you, sir!”

Gerson pats the dog’s shoulder as he walks by. “Report to the arresting officer on duty tomorrow morning.”

“W-what?”

“You still spoke up against a superior,” Gerson reminds without turning his head around. “I won’t be questioned by a subordinate who clearly hasn’t any interest in the history of her superiors. I will send with you a few books to study while you sit your day away in confinement. Some quiet peace for your reading. Before that, please make sure the prince takes his bath.”

“Shouldn't-”

“Do you want more time to read more books, sergeant?”

“Having the opposite sex interfere in the prince’s private matters is a question of common decency, sir!” the guard voices louder than previously.

“He better hurry up with his bath then,” Gerson replies with an eyebrow raised. It drops back down instantly afterwards. “I am well aware of your concerns, but there’s a thick wooden door between you and the prince. If you’re implying that such is not enough for you to be isolated from him, then I will have to conduct further disciplinary actions. You will speak no more of his matter, for your own good. I have given you your orders, sergeant. Now execute them.”

The guard huffs angrily as she marches through the same door Asgore exited from. Gerson shifts his head over to another guard that salutes. “You’d think she’d be all over that order considering what was found in her locker last inspection, but it seems she only wants what she thinks is the best for the prince.”

“Still want to move her post, sir?”

“Yes, I do. I can’t have those kinds of feeling from his closest guards. Too dangerous. Do delay my previous order about insubordination from the inspection to the arresting officer, she’s cleared about that.”

He halts the guard just before he takes off. “Her speaking out of her rank is still active, but I’ll take care of it.”

“Sir!” the remaining guard dog acknowledges before leaving through a door leading further away from the castle than the one Asgore used.

Gerson stands alone in the training yard and enjoys the quiet a bit. Asgore came somewhat close to landing a blow, but Gerson can’t praise him for that. Not yet. Asgore still has a way to go before Gerson will allow him the satisfaction. Even longer before he gets to use anything sharper than the staff he just left lying in the middle of the ring.

With a pout on his lips, Gerson flips Asgore’s training staff up in the air before catching it. He replaces the two weapons on their respective racks, and cleans his face with some cold water from a nearby wooden bucket.

At least he doesn’t have to worry about that guard dog no longer. It’s been a couple of sleepless nights for Gerson to try and figure out who Asgore’s mysterious courtier is, but all the evidence points towards it being harmless. Better to move her away from Asgore rather than blowing it up further. Should she make more moves it might require Gerson to force his hand, but he’d rather keep it low for now.

She’ll understand that she’s been stepping out of line after some quiet reading in her holding cell tomorrow, Gerson will make sure of that.

He leans on his crossed arms as he looks out over the kingdom that he’s preparing this young Asgore to rule.

He sighs, he’s got a lot to work on. This gorgeous country, this marvelous kingdom which Gerson has given his all too, and gotten so much more in return. He’s on the frontline in shaping its future, shaping Asgore to rule over it.

It excites him to his very core. His soul flutters with anticipation at the mere thought of improving upon perfection, sending a wave of pride throughout him.

He will do everything he can, and everything he can’t, to make sure Asgore grows into the largest pair of boots this world has ever seen. A monster king to rival even the most powerful of humans. He will stand stalwart should war ever break out. Asgore will have the will to protect his kingdom, and he will have the soul to do it once Gerson is done with him.

Nothing less will Gerson leave to guard this realm that’s cradled him his entire life. Nothing less will lead the monsters to a more prosperous future.

It’s a bit of a shame that Asgore’s father has ruled with such wisdom and courage. Not because it provides Gerson with a bigger challenger. Heavens no! If anything, Gerson welcomes the challenge with open arms.

No, it’s a bit of a shame that peace is blossoming like the trees inside the castle garden. Gerson will never see the fruits of his labor if war is never an option.

Gerson’s brow furrows as he’s disgusted by these thoughts that he’s allowed himself to indulge in. Nothing a quick toss with a summoned hammer can fix, and Gerson takes aim on the target on the far end of the yard.

The target shatters, just like Gerson’s intrusive thoughts. Questioning the king? Bah!

Maybe he was a bit harsh to the kid?

Another target explodes into splinters as another hammer strikes it.

Never! Asgore needs to be strong, and Gerson needs to make him so. To build confidence, thick skin, and discipline.

Gerson allows himself a chuckle. Maybe he should start with his own subordinates before tackling the prince. He didn’t immediately pick up on the blossoming admiration, and that won’t do. Especially in the future when Asgore gets more of a public presence.

Gerson will commission a full report, and learn from it the best he can!

There won’t be another undeserving love under his watch ever again!

This he swears!

//

“Toriel?”

Toriel carefully turns her head around. “Yes?” she asks Jyuona jogging up to her.

“Oh, so it is you! You have new clothes! You look really good in them. Green is a good color on you.”

Toriel feels her cheeks blush a bit at the warm compliment she wasn’t at all ready for. “Oh, these? Yeah, it’s my mom’s. She said I’ve finally grown up enough to wear her old dresses.”

“It almost looks like it could be one of those dresses the royals wear. If it were purple, that is.”

Toriel’s eyes shift over to the castle in the distance from her village. It stands tall, proud, famous, and splendid beyond belief.

“Although, you wouldn’t want to be one of those pompous monsters living there, would you?”

Toriel’s caught off guard by her emerging snicker. It causes a snortle from her, and she puts one hand over her muzzle. “Yeah, sure that I would ever find myself inside those halls. Don’t think I would bear it even if I were lucky,” Toriel throws her fingers up as quotation marks, “to enter. I heard they have to spend the entire morning trimming their horns, claws, hair, everything! Not to matter the hairstyles!”

“Yeah! I know! Look at me, I’m so big and important that I can’t even do my shoes by myself since I’m too big and important to do something only the peasants do.”

Toriel closes one eye while pouting her lips in an overtly classy manner. “Certainly,” she says while holding an invisible glass that she sloshes around, making doubly sure to have her pinky finger extended. “And would you believe that I almost came into contact with one of those peasants? My child, I tell you! I spent the rest of the day having the help scrub me clean while reassuring me that it would be alright. I nearly fainted!”

Her friend mimics the faint. “My word, Toriel! How did you survive almost coming in contact with the lower classes?”

“I threw them money!” Toriel explains while flicking her fist open in a disgusting manner. “It’s the only thing they want, see? Don’t matter none that it’s their taxes that pay us. Why would they want their money back if they’re so willing to give it to us?”

“Well I never!”

“And you’re lucky to never have come in contact with them!”

The two friends share a laugh while blowing raspberries towards the castle.

“Aren’t you related?”

Toriel’s tongue hangs outside her mouth in confusion. “Wha-” She retracts it with an audible slurp. “What?”

Jyuona runs a hand up and down Toriel. “You’re a Boss Monster, right? Don’t you have some Royal Dust in your soulline?”

Toriel does the same to her friend. “Don’t we all? Just because I am one doesn’t mean that I’m royal.”

“I still think we should walk up to the castle doors one day with you in a purple dress to see if they let you in. You know, just for fun!”

Toriel scoffs. “Getting thrown in jail is not my definition of fun.”

“So we’ll run away! You think they would chase after us? And risk getting their shoes and newly oiled scale, fur, feathers, whatever, dirty? Their hands might fall off if they catch us as well!”

“They have guards, you know?” Toriel is quick to remind with a slight tilt of her head accompanied by a cocky eyebrow raised high. “Guards with weapons.”

“So seduce them!”

“You do that!”

“Alright!”

Toriel freezes in place, her hand stuck in the air right in front of her half flexed. “What?” slips out of her frozen expression.

“Ha! Got you!”

Her friend manages a couple of step before Toriel unfreezes and catches up. “You were just kidding?”

“Of course I was! Yeah, the money is probably gonna be amazing, but those ponces are more see through than any skeleton monster around!”

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” cries a nearby town crier loudly, waving three bells in its orange tentacles. “The Royal Family wishes you a pleasant day knowing that with every day the prince grows stronger and wiser! A prosperous future awaits us all! Long live the Royal Family! Long live us all!”

Toriel shakes her head, mimicking her friend. Every single day the same speech. Every single day the Royal Family wishes goodwill only to slink in that tired boasting. The prince is growing one day older each day. Everyone must know! Everyone must care! Everyone must fall to their knees crying in bliss that the prince survived another day!

Why should everyone be so proud that he survived another day? Is he really that strong and wise if everyday the Royal Family is so amazed that the prince woke up that morning? If he’s so powerful, why does he need guards around him constantly? Why is he talked about so much, yet seldom shown?

Every single day with this! It’s like white noise at this point. The town crier must be bored out of his mind doing this every single hour of every single day. Unless he enjoys his work.

In which case he’s an idiot in Toriel’s book.

Yes, she’d love to see what’s inside the palace wall, but who doesn’t? That’s where all the power is, that’s where all the money is. It’s not for any good reason though, just greedy ones. The best education, the best training, the best food, the best protection. It has to come with a price.

A price called pure boredom!

At least, that’s what Toriel tells herself. She couldn’t settle down like that. She would go insane the first week! All those restrictions. Living a life that you’re told to live, not one you want to. What if the prince didn’t want to be a prince?

Too bad! He’s the prince. Before he was even born he was the prince. As soon as his parents got married he was a prince. Not to mention the King and Queen!

Doesn’t take inside knowledge of nobility to understand that they’re in their positions because someone else told them to be there, because their soulline destined them to be there.

Toriel won’t deny that the wedding must’ve been absolutely fantastic, if her old ‘Nan is to be believed. But what is a royal ball, anyway? After all, it must be frightfully dull, a-and boring, and completely…

Nah, just those two.

Sure, once it gets started it must be the party of a lifetime, but afterwards? Nah, back to the dull days of living a life handed to you, and not one carved with your own volition.

“Toriel, are you thinking about the castle again?”

Toriel blinks out of her thoughts. “Sorry?”

Jyuona waves her hand in front of her own face in a circular motion. “You get this smirk on your face, like you’ve just figured out the biggest heist to steal the crown or something. Are you gonna march up there and blow kisses to the prince? Your dear Boss Monster prince?”

Toriel shoves her friend’s shoulder aside. “There are like four more Boss Monster families in this city alone, and those are only the ones I know of. There’s probably tens of more closer to the castle! There are more Boss Monsters than there are skeletons, for crying out loud!”

“There are?”

“I don’t know,” Toriel admits while throwing her hand up against the castle. “My point is that just because I’m a Boss Monster doesn’t mean anything. We’ve probably had a king or queen that wasn’t a Boss Monster before. Wouldn’t we be called Royal Monsters if that wasn’t the case?”

“Sorry,” Jyuona puts up her hands over her chest, “sorry. I was just kidding. Did I strike a nerve?”

“Everyone asks me sooner rather than later, that’s it.” Toriel hangs her head as she heaves a heavy sigh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get so upset. It’s just, people assume, and when I say no, they look so disappointed, like it’s my fault or something. Sorry I’m not a contender to the throne? Sorry my soulline is as normal as yours?”

Jyuona offers Toriel a supporting arm over her shoulder. “It’s fine, Toriel. You’re just a peasant like the rest of us!”

Toriel cocks her head up with brow furrowed low.

“I did not mean it to sound like that,” her friend says in defense. “I was just trying to cheer you up.”

“Thanks, but you could’ve worded it differently. Maybe if you actually went to class today?”

Jyuona lets Toriel go as if she suddenly turned into acid. “Whoa now! Calm down a bit there. Let’s not suggest something crazy!”

“Like me heading up to smooch snootles with that pretentious prince?” Toriel shoots back with a vicious stare.

“You’d have to navigate your tongue around all those silver spoons in his mouth. Must taste horrible. Unless he’s used to the taste of metal after having them in his mouth for all his life.”

Toriel’s brow sinks down in disgust. Her head moves silently from side to side. “No,” she mutters. “Why would you say that? My tongue just curled up.”

“Uncurl it so that you can-”

“Stop!”

Toriel’s friend bursts out in a laugh. She pats Toriel on the back, “See you after class!” and heads off into a fork in the road away from where Toriel’s going.

“Say hi to Asgore from me!” she shouts before rounding the corner.

Toriel throws a rude gesture after her friend along with an extended tongue. Once she returns it inside her mouth, she thinks she notices the slightest taste of metal. She spits it out, and dries off her mouth.

“As fucking if.”


	2. The White Hand

“Again.”

An outstretched hands offers to take the white furred one. To help it stand up and show its vigor, strength, pride, coura-

“You got two seconds to get your hand out of my face before I give it back to you down your throat.”

The hand retracts. “I just wanted to help you.”

“You can barely stand,” Toriel reminds the drunk patron stumbling clumsily around the bar. “Go home.”

“But-”

And out he goes! A couple of bounces for good measure to teach him some manners. Toriel returns to behind the canteen as she dusts off her hands on her apron. She continues to search the underside of it to find...the...Ah! There it is! And just a splash of citrus to top off the soup. She samples it for any missing seasoning, but her tongue finds nothing wrong with it.

Slow steamed snails served succulent sweet and sour, made perfect with her magic. A small part of her soul in every serving so that her patrons can share the joy she has of serving them.

“Two bowls of Seven Sowls ready!” Toriel announces to the half filled dining room. Two monsters come up for their order. “Anything to drink?” she offers.

“Do you have some Royal Purple left?” one of the monsters wonders while carefully holding the hot bowl in one of her talon. Her black and white feathers ruffle from the heat.

“Sorry, Glenne,” Toriel says with a solemn nod. “The parade today has delayed any shipment outside the castle. Haven’t been able to put in an order for over a week now, and I don’t know when I will be able to. I’ll let you know when the gods lets us mortals savour their nectar again though.”

“Dang, I was looking forward to tasting it,” the other monster laments with a sigh. Her mouth pouts disappointingly, as well as the one on her stomach.

“I can recommend something human though!” Toriel reaches down under the counter and brings up a bottle that she present gingerly tilted in her gentle palms. “It’s got a windmill on it.” She’s not really sure if that means something, but it’s there.

The monster takes the bottle in her hand. “Does that mean it’s good?” she asks while scratching her head dangerously close to the ornate brooch in her orange hair.

“It’s not as good a quality as Royal Purple, but it does mix well with the sweet and sour of the soup,” Toriel explains while tapping her claw into the cork. “Two glasses?”

The monster patrons trade looks and shrugs. “Sure,” says the feathery one with a smile that pushes away the yellow stripes going down her cheeks from her eyes. “Two glasses, please.”

Toriel stabs the cork with one of her claws and opens it with a satisfying pop. With one of her horns she catches the rings of two wooden mugs on the cupboard behind her. She eases the cups down on the table while moving the bottle over to fill them up. She replaces the cork and serves the monsters with a pleased smile. “Hope it tastes!”

The monsters return to their table, striking up a conversation about the first day attending school by the kid of one of them.

It warms Toriel seeing the delighted smiles of the one she serves. It makes up for the couple of monsters she has to throw out of the inn every day or so. Mostly Royal Guards looking to take the mind off. Toriel knows her rights though, and how far the badge on the Royal Guards’ tunics reach. It reaches until they start slurring their sentences, and not one step more. She might be acting a bit cold for their taste when she throws them out, but they should’ve thought about that before they got mindlessly drunk.

The warmth settles quickly back in though as Toriel allows herself to forget all about the bad patrons that pale compared to the number of smiles she receives each day. She’s found her calling after some back and forth since she finished her obligatory schooling.

Seeing herself in others.

And what better way than to serve food and drink to the hungry and thirsty? As long as they pay, of course. She has to feed herself as well. 

Toriel takes a moment now that the soup is ready for, what should be, a large influx of customers any moment now. The parade is today, and people are gonna want to have some energy to watch an endless carriages of important people made important because they’ve said that they’re important roll by slowly but steadily. Toriel’s not complaining though. She’s got the biggest cauldron simmering to the brink with Seven Sowls and bowls to spare. It’s only fair that she gets to sit down for a bit now that she has the chance. 

Calm before the storm, and it’s a big one on the horizon.

Parade’s gonna be good for business. About damn time that the palace gives something back to the people, even if it’s just a reason for the people to bask in the glory that they’d never share.

Toriel’s gonna bask in the amount of G she’s gonna bring in today, that’s for a fact!

A nice addition to her University fund. A few more coins to stack so that she can reach up to it. Quite a few coins if her prediction is correct.

And here it comes, just as she predicted, as a crowd starts amassing outside on the street. Toriel immediately sees plenty of necks crane up and turn around a second later as they catch the whiff of her soup through the window she’s left slightly ajar for just that reason. She takes a step aside and motions her hand invitingly over the bubbling cauldron.

The heads outside talk for a short bit before one nods, and follows the other inside.

“That smells really good!” one of the new guests says with a smile. “Two bowls please!”

“Two for us!” another couple behind the first one shouts.

“Three here!”

Toriel leans up from her chair. She rolls her other shoulder as she stacks a small tower of wooden bowls in her hand.

“For the Prince!” she shouts. Gotta stir the crowd as well as the soup.

“For the Prince!” the restaurant shouts back with pride.

Oh yes, that fund is gonna overflow by the end of the parade.

//

“Two minutes, Asgore!”

“I’m on my-” The air is forced out of Asgore as his tailor tightens the belt around his waist. The sudden squeeze has him coughing to regain the air lost.

“Don’t,” says the tailor, tapping Asgore sternly on the shoulder with one of his claws. To his immense fear he feels the gilded rope holding the cape in place loosen. He removes a large pin from his tanned muzzle and shoves it at an angle through the end of the rope. It scrapes against Asgore’s fur.

“Hey!” he exclaims, jerking his shoulder away from the tailor. “That was close enough! You almost stabbed me.”

“I sincerely hope Master Gerson’s training have steeled you against such tiny pricks,” the tailor snarks while inspecting Asgore’s ankles. “Rest assure that I would never seek to harm you, Prince Asgore. My limbs are as honed to my craft as Master Gerson’s, if not more.”

Asgore carefully pats his shoulder while bouncing it up and down a bit. “Could’ve warned me so that I could relax it to give the needle some more space.”

“Prince,” begs the tailor with the utmost respect, “you aren’t fathoming slouching during the parade today, are you? If so-”

“One minute!” informs the guard at the door. “The King is waiting, Prince Asgore.”

The tailor takes a step back. “Arms outstretched,” he asks over his shoulder as he rolls up a full body mirror for Asgore. With some effort he gets it in place, but it takes a toll on him rolling a mirror much larger than him.

Asgore tilts his body up and down, making sure that all the pieces that aren’t supposed to move stay still, and those that are supposed to sway gently and with dignity fit for a prince.

The purple mantle sweeps over his posture, obscuring the ornate armor like a theater curtain closing to prepare for the third act. Asgore drags his arm across it, bending it behind him, and exposing his other arm that he will use to wave towards his future people.

He tugs a smile, parting the field of yellow of his muzzle, like the last soft layer of snow on a spring garden of Golden Flowers. He did good this week, he’s deserved the length of his beard. Almost like a golden waterfall it hangs from his chin, melting together with equally golden hair at his temples. Two horns stand over the sea of yellow, like defiant mountains in the roughest of seas.

“We have to go now, my prince,” the guard states, panic seeking root in his voice. “I’ll escort you to your carriage.”

Asgore nods, “Lead the way,” and follows the guard down the castle hallway.

It’s quiet in the castle, more quiet than Asgore can ever remember. Not a single soul is present inside, everyone is outside on the courtyard, waiting for him.

The reason for the parade.

Finally an adult. Finally grown up. 

He’s been waiting for this day. All his life he’s waited for this day. He’s an heir now, a real heir. Not a kid prince, but a Royal Heir, successor to the throne. Asgore’s beaming with pride, his radiance almost matching the burning orange color of the setting sun in the distance.

Each step down the spiraling staircase has his soul pulsating faster and faster. He’s filled with an eagerness he’s never felt before. It’s radiating throughout him like a hot cup of tea in the middle of winter. He’s tense, but not out of fear, but of excitement. He could snap his finger and summon the biggest fireball he’s ever created, and this time he would have control over it.

Maybe he should do that at the end of the parade? Show his, soon to be, people what he’s learned. Show them how hard he’s worked! Show them how much he’s dedicated himself to be their future king! Every early morning! Every late night! Every bruise he’s gotten as a means to be their sword. Every bruise healed as a means to be their shield. Every silent minute spent studying to be their tome.

Today he shows them what he’s become. Today he shows them what their future king will be like.

Today he makes his reveal, as their future king!

Asgore reaches his carriage, opened so that all may witness him. They will feel safe, they will feel excited, and have trust in the future of their kingdom. The prosperity he will bring upon his people, his everything, they will all see it, and have faith in him.

For today Asgore becomes an heir. No longer a prince. No more will he just be a potential. Today his sacrifices and learning will be made manifest to a kingdom that will be his!

Oh he just can’t wait to be king.

//

“That’s just silly.”

Toriel shakes her amused head as she wheels her cart down the crowded street with the parade in full swing all around her. Carriages of splendor, surrounded by guards with discipline harder than the toughest of steel that make up their armor.

Filled with the legacies of the current reign. Art, knowledge, food, drink, treasure, and more! Cart upon cart roll by overflowing with what has been achieved. 

The pride of the past!

Paintings that clad the castle wall, brandishing motifs as varied as the styles used to bring them to life. The awe inspiring magic of it sends thoughtful contemplation through the masses. With each cart, the contemplation is enriched, until finally the last cart, filled with the most ancient of word and magic, makes the crowd gasp in understanding. What was at the first cart barely the slightest consideration has now proven a deeper perception to all.

“This is what our prince has studied! The techniques of old has laid the groundwork for him to explore this world! A groundwork he will add to as his reign comes to fruition!”

A smell divine flows through the crowd like a golden mist.

“Feast upon the fruit he’s sown!”

Cuisine, likes of which has never been sampled outside the castle, is given to the crowd. Rows upon rows of guards, sharing with their fellow monsters tastes the likes never to be found again after this day. Fare which has been prepared since the day of Asgore’s birth, made to stew and grow as he did. Now that he’s matured enough, so has the food. A succulence from the prince to his kingdom.

“This is what he will bring upon your table! His life you have now tasted, and his life you now have taken into yours. Let him empower you for the journeys that your life awaits you! Let his soul make yours strong!”

Wagons filled with priests, proclaiming this momentous day as one to never be forgotten. A day that will be looked back on as new chapter in the long and prosperous line of the Royal Lineage. Hymns as gorgeous as the bountiful conservatory that is the castle garden in the brightest of spring mornings sweep over the crowd. Like honey and milk, it brings a serenity like the nostalgic calming of a loving mother’s caress, releasing emotions most monsters never thought they had. A collective heart beats in rhythm to the song, with tears of joy collecting in the smiles of every monster that share it with everyone around. Their auras join together as the hymns rise in strength, the words sung by the priest echoing from every mouth in a warm laud that fills the collective soul with determination.

As the hymn ends, the soul fades away. Tears are shed, but not for its disappearance. Tears are shed, but not for the loss of something never to be shared again. Tears are shed, because it happened. Tears are shed, as the mutual hope for the future was revealed. Monsters made aware of the hope bestowed upon them, and their neighbor. Their family, their friends. They know not only their own hope, but the hope around them. 

A shared moment that will last an eternity. A moment that the priests ring out! “This moment will be the reign of Asgore!” they speak. “This is what awaits us!” they voice.

“What a load of bollocks.”

Toriel finally hears herself think as the priests’ yelling dies down further down the road. She can now return to collecting her bowls. She was quite correct in the parade being big enough to sell all of her soup, and now she just have to collect the bowls before her shift is over. Her university is coming closer and closer.

Shouldn’t be too long now.

//

The people.

His future people.

So many. Asgore knew that it would be many, but never would he thought he would see so many at once.

Like an endless sea stretching before him. There are monsters everywhere! The streets are filled, so much so that it spills upwards. Monsters are leaning out of windows, waving from rooftops, cheering on lampposts. The very ground that’s stood for thousands of year are buckling under the weight of the monsters that have come to witness this parade. From across the entire country people have flocked. Traveled for days, even weeks, to reach the capital. It’s a monumental day, not only for Asgore, but for the entire dominion he’s set to watch over.

From the poorest commoner to the wealthiest echelon, today they stand shoulder to shoulder. Some even upon shoulders. All in cheer, loud in ovation, salutes, claps. They’re here for one reason, a reason that has been a long time coming not only for them, but for Asgore as well. They stand around him, with hope for the future. They stand together.

All to welcome him.

All to welcome their future king. The Royal Heir to their kingdom.

He waves back, sending a roar of applause right back at him. It’s loud, deafening even. His entire carriage, built from metal, reinforced to withstand him showing of his magic and martial prowess, is rocked to its very core. All the way to him.

His smile widens, stretching his cheeks to almost breaking apart. This energy! It’s enveloping his entire being, absorbing into him. He can barely breathe, it’s too much! All for him! Everyone! He can’t stand it sitting down no more! Why should he sit when they’re all standing up for him? He has to give it back to them! Show that he’s willing to accept it! To cherish their wishes, to make them all come true! With this, he pushes himself out of his purple clad throne, and flies up on his feet. He takes two large steps so that he’s visible to all that want to see. So that they can see what they’re cheering for, make it real in their eyes. Asgore inhales it deeply, and when he exhales, he throws his arms outward.

The roar explodes even louder. It hurts Asgore’s ears, the sound makes his eyes shake inside his skull. It hurts, but he stands stalwart against it. How can he not endure the happiness of his future subjects? If he can’t withstand their love, then how will he ever rule them fair and just?

No, it’s a test. His first real test. He’s going to weather this bright star shining upon him! Even the darkest of nights, the rainiest of days, he will stand up for them. He will keep them safe, and lead them to prosper!

For this is what he’s lived his life for. This is what everything’s lead up to. Finally he can bear witness to what all his hardships are about. They’re all around him. Colors as varied as the brightest of rainbows. Forms that he never knew were possible, but will love and take in regardless. Be it winged, scaled, claw, eye, tentacle, anything he can and can’t imagine.

Those will he see through to a new day. A new week, month, year, life! No matter how long it takes, even if Asgore lives forever, he will be there for them. To give his protection and wisdom to those that would pledge themselves to him. And he will do that tirelessly, just as how his, soon to be, people are cheering for him now without end. 

He can’t help but feel pride, such unrelenting pride, for what he’s done to reach this moment. It tears him up, just like his subjects. He’s one with them, just how the priests said he would be. His soul is linked with them now. They’ve taken him in, and now he will take them in. Let them wash upon him! He’s ready!

“Bring it in!” he commands loudly with his voice booming like the deepest of thunder.

//

Toriel trails off her counting as she reaches the bottom of the last stack. “There’s one missing? How?” She’s gone up and down the road twice now! It’s not in the crowd! She’s sure of it! Where could it-

//

“My people!”

//

Oh…

Are you serious?

//

Asgore takes in his hand the simple wooden bowl, and brings it up to his nose to sample it. It smells...wonderful! Oh, what bliss! Not that he would doubt the creations of his people, not for a moment, but this? This is as wonderful as anything he’s ever had! Carefully he brings the bowl up to his lips, and the once deafening cheering around him dies down into an anticipated murmur. The golden beard of his breaks apart as he gently tilts the bowl upwards.

He’s one with them now. His people.

//

Toriel’s crossing her fingers that some drips down his beard. That would be such a good slogan. “Seven Sowls, so good even the prince drools over it!”

Toriel has to hide her giggling with her hand. It’s so quiet around her it would stand out like a trumpet in a library.

//

The last drop finds its way down Asgore’s throat, and he throws the bowl away in triumph. The crowd once again explodes into cheers as he takes a bow.

//

Why? Why would he do that? It landed on the other side! God dammit! Toriel won’t be able to get to it before the parade is over! She leans her head backwards and sighs with a groan. God freaking dammit! What’s he saying now?

//

“And for that I thank you for this meal!” Asgore finishes with another bow.

//

Is he going to say who made it? Does he even know? No, of course not. To him it’s just a peasant’s meal. Just soup that wasn’t feed to him with a silver spoon. Betcha that he tosses his plate away when he’s in the castle away. Toriel crosses her arms as she leans herself on her wagon. She glances down the street to try and catch a glimpse of the end of the parade.

There is none in sight.

She sighs again.

//

Now’s the time. Asgore’s filled to the brink. He has to show his people what he is capable of. Show them that he’s worthy of being their protector. He closes his eyes, and moves his arm close in front of him. From his center he draws upon what is him, his magic, through his soul. The rapid pulsating from it he channels through his body, out to his arms, and up above him.

//

Toriel has to squint with one eye as a bright fireball appears above the stopped cart with the prince on it. It’s large, very large. Burning brighter than the setting sun, even. Must be his fancy magics. Fancy pansy from the best education that Toriel will never have, even if she saved for her entire life. 

Her foot starts tapping.

Just because he was born into it, not because he deserved it. He didn’t prove himself to be worthy of it, he was just given it.

Her face scrunches into a frown.

And now he’s showing it off for everyone to see! Bragging that he’s so much better than everyone else!

Toriel drags her arm over her muzzle as she pushes herself up from her wagon. She takes two large steps forward to see him clearly.

She closes her eyes, focusing on her soul, on her magic. It’s...wait! She feels something outside her as well. Some of her magic? From...Oh my god! The soup! He drank the soup! 

//

It’s straining his entire being, but Asgore cannot falter! It has to be big, it has to take everything he has, and then some. It has to be the demonstration of his worthiness! Bigger! Hotter! Warm like the welcome he’s been given! Great as the hope that his people shown him!

//

Yes! She can feel it! She can place some of her magic inside his! She just has to focus, shut everything else out! Just a small one, just enough for the fire to-

//

What! Who?

//

The fireball starts sparkling wildly, shooting flames above it like an excited Vulkin. Toriel makes a final closing fist, and the whipping sphere detonates, sending shards of burning magic up into the sky where they pop like walnuts being cracked. The thousand pieces together make for a crackling orchestra, leaving a small drizzle of orange colored dust that blows away in the wind.

It won’t set fire to anything, Toriel’s sure about that. It’s as much her magic now as it was the prince’s.

//

Asgore stares dumbfounded at where the fire was just snuffed out. The cries of excitement wisps through his ears like white noise. There was someone there. He felt...someone. Who was it? How could they?

Asgore stumbles back into his chair as his carriage starts moving again. He looks down on his hand resting on his chest plate.

Who was...she?

//

“Don’t slurp your food next time,” Toriel laughs out to herself. She remounts her cart in her hands and wheels it back towards her tavern.

“You’ll get hiccups.”


	3. A fireball that ignited two worlds

“Is it because of that soup you had yesterday that’s making you more bent over this fine morning than a fishing hook?”

The words pass right through Asgore, like water through a colander without a bottom. His head hangs over his breakfast, ears dangling like the flags outside the large kitchen windows during this calm morning. Should he had to be conscious about keeping his eyes inside his skull they would be making acquaintance with the eggs he’s quarterheartedly been poking around on with his fork. He wouldn’t even react if he accidentally ate one of his own escaped eyes.

Might’ve even compliment the chef over the taste afterwards.

The eyes do almost fall out as Gerson whacks the back of Asgore’s head with a summoned hammer. His beard almost touches the plate, but the yolk wouldn’t make too big of a difference in Asgore’s golden facial hair. The whack proves to have little effect, as Gerson’s attempts to harden the prince’s body has proven to be effective.

It now resulting in defiance to his method does little to improve his mood, and Gerson summons a bigger hammer as the only response he gets from his first attempt just summoned a small “Hm?” from the absentminded prince.

The stool underneath Asgore caves in as Gerson surgically takes away one of its legs. The future king of the glorious country which grandeur shimmers in the morning dew not but a few feet away close, and not but a thousand miles far, falls down less graciously as his grace would be comfortable with.

The impact of it causes even less comfort for Asgore, and the flowers outside the nearest window has their morning dew shaken off.

Gerson catches the fork Asgore throws away from him without even looking at it. “Should I arrange a countrywide excursion to find where your mind is? Maybe it has taken up a fulfilling craft somewhere? Otherwise, why would it be this occupied?”

He replaces the fork in its rightful order next to Asgore’s plate. “Now eat up. Just because you’re an heir now doesn’t mean that your training is gonna get less easy. Quite the contrary, if my proposition goes through. You’re anxious to get on with your new responsibilities, right Asgore?”

“...Yeah.”

Gerson’s pleased smile drains away into a tired scowl. He leans into Asgore’s face, stopping just an inch away from making contact with the hanging white muzzle. “The humans have declared war on the basis that they fear our magic. You’re being summoned to defend your people, Asgore. Will you take up arms?”

“...Sure.”

Gerson’s brow sinks even lower. “Or is it that you want to defect to the humans? Abandon your country and kin for some unknown reason?”

“...Yes, Gerson. I’ll get right on that, I promise.”

Gerson’s exhausted grunt echoes through the large dining hall, causing more drizzles of morning dew outside the windows. It catches the attention of some of the chefs, and the busy noises from the kitchen die down. The head chef pokes his fiery head out. Gerson meets it over his shoulder. “Bring out some more eggs for the prince in...” He turns his head back to Asgore. “Humans are besieging the castle door, Asgore!”

“...Mhm.”

Gerson turns back to the head chef. “Around ten minutes or so? Pretty sure his stomach will rumble loud enough for his head to hear it by then.”

“...I’ll shave it.”

Gerson throws up a flustered hand against Asgore for the chef to see. He gets an acknowledging nod from the chef, who returns into the kitchen. Gerson also chooses to ignore the muffled laughter that manages to escape the kitchen before the busyness returns.

“Perhaps I need to dial your meditation back down a notch. Wa ha ha ha!” Gerson laughs to himself before giving Asgore a hard pat on the back that has him stiffly rocking forward and back once. “You’re getting too good at it.”

“...I’ll get to it,” Asgore answers way after Gerson’s out of hearing distance. He’s alone in the dining room now, not that he noticed that there ever was anyone else in there with him to begin with. The humans could actually be attacking at this very moment, but Asgore would’ve been none the wiser.

That is, unless they had that woman with them.

That woman…

Asgore’s run the situation through his head multiple times now, trying to remember exactly how the magic felt, and from where it could’ve originated.

It wasn’t his, it was someone else’s. That much he can gather. He knows it’s possible to combine magic, he’s done it before as part of his training, but it requires some form of consent.

What did Asgore consent to? What did he do to allow someone else into his…

“Of cour-” Asgore shoots his head up, only to have it slam against the underside of the table. He brings his muzzle down to his hands, and rubs it while breathing quickly. When did his chair broke? Did he do that?

Gerson’s gonna kill him if he broke that. Dammit…

Asgore looks around to see if anyone else saw. Concluding against it, he brushes the splinters away underneath the table as far away from him as possible. He reaches over to grab another chair closest to where he managed to sweep the pieces, and seats himself, carefully, on that.

His resumed tapping with his fork on his sunny side up eggs has them bleeding the yolk over his entire plate, creating a pool that no fork could ever drain. Which reminds him.

It must’ve been the soup, no doubt about it. It wasn’t poisoned though, that was already cleared before it was brought up to him. No, it must’ve been some sort of magic. Although, the intent wasn’t harmful, Asgore would’ve noticed that much. The intent...What did it feel like? Not disdain, more like...playful annoyance? Curious juxtaposition? Asgore can’t really put his finger on the exact emotion, which must mean that it wasn’t planned. If the woman really wanted to take control or do damage, Asgore wouldn’t have felt the warmth of the people around him when he drank the soup.

And what a soup it was! Must’ve been made with the utmost love and care.

Asgore leans back in his chair, being very aware of any, if all, signs of it starting to buckle. 

So this woman is also a devout cook? She didn’t make it for Asgore though. There’s no way she’d known that he would consume it! That decision only he and Gerson knew about. Asgore should ask him where he got that soup.

Or should he? If Gerson gets wind of Asgore being absentminded that could spell disaster. To that woman too! 

No, Asgore needs to do this himself.

So Asgore is looking for a chef somewhere in the city. Outskirts of the city, a fair bit away from where the castle. That’s where he drank the soup. It was warm, so it had to have been cooked fairly closely. There wasn’t any magic holding it warm. Again, Asgore would’ve noticed that when he drank the soup.

Where exactly in the outskirts though?

Asgore closes his eyes as he tries to remember any landmarks. None that immediately spring to mind, the streets were too full of people, his memory recalls. Perhaps...no, it’s gonna be cloudy today with chance of rain, he can’t use the sun’s position. He was a ways up on his carriage as well, so any ground assertion would be inaccurate. If only it was late at night he might’ve been able to use the stars as guidance, but no luck there either.

Maybe he just have to follow in the parade’s footsteps? ...Wheel tracks. Although, Asgore was inside for quite a while before he decided to go outside before his reveal. So exactly where the parade went through the city he doesn’t know. Only the driver at the front did.

Gah! It’s gonna be like looking for a needle in a haystack. A needle Asgore doesn’t even know the shape of.

“Your fresh eggs, sir.”

Asgore flinches back as he doesn’t hear the head chef walking up to him. A new plate with a couple of freshly made eggs is placed before him. He forces out a smile.

“The plates are being cleaned at the moment, my prince,” the head chef apologizes. “I hope you don’t mind them being served in a bowl.”

“No, that’s-”

Wait a minute! 

Asgore lunges up on his feet.

That’s it!

He dashes away towards the door. He gets one step away from it with his hand outstretched before he halts. The rumbling sound emanating from his stomach echoes through the large dining hall, and he turns around sheepishly, only to discover that he knocked over his two servings on the ground in his haste.

“Could you...” he tries to ask before another rumble interrupts him.

“I’ll bring the food up to your room, your highness,” the head chef sighs as Asgore doesn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before bursting through the flung open door.

//

“If only you had one more bowl...”

“Oh ha ha!” Toriel throws out of her with sarcasm flowing thicker than the reduced sauce dripping off the wooden spoon she’s waving in her friend’s face. “Aren’t you hilarious today, Jyuona?” she remarks with her muzzle wrinkled like the skin forming on the simmering sauce in the large pan next to her.

Jyuona wets one of her fingers on the edge of the spoon just an inch away from her face. She sucks the sauce off and smacks her lips as she samples the taste. “Just needs one more bowl of...Oh wait, sorry.”

Toriel taps the wooden spoon on her, now a very huge stretch of the word, friend on her nose. Jyuona blows her lips in reflex and takes a step back while drying her face with a nearby towel. “You’re not putting that back in the sauce, I hope!”

Toriel wipes the spoon off on a fresh slice of bread that she carves up for herself. With the bread in her mouth she flicks the spoon over her shoulder into the dish water. “Don’t think the customers will appreciate having your snot in their food, so no.”

“But you seem to enjoy it,” Jyuona points out with a wiggled eyebrow and an extended index finger.

“Gotta enjoy something about you, even if it is your snot.”

A sudden silence hangs over the two.

“You want a minute to come up with a better comeback?” Jyuona chuckles after letting the silence drag on for a bit.

“Nah, you don’t deserve that.”

Jyuona takes a step back with her hand over her chest. “Ouch, Toriel,” she feigns. “Just because you’re a Boss Monster doesn’t mean that you can go ahead and use your more powerful soul to hurt me like this.”

“Oh trust me!” Toriel nods once. “I’m not using any of my soul right now.”

“Oof,” Jyuona feigns again, but louder. “You spent that minute well, Toriel.”

“I’m starting to think that your excuse of just popping to say hi is a lie now, Jyuona.” Toriel motions for her friend to take a step aside so that she can carry over the sauce to another cooking station. She bends down under it and snaps her finger against the tinder and logs piled underneath the large cooking vessel. A magic fire flutters to life, enveloping the underside of the pot with a bright orange flame. “Since, you know, you’ve already said it, and are still here.”

Jyuona throws a questioning finger towards a pile of fruit on the cupboard she backed into to get out of Toriel’s way. Toriel nods, and Jyuona picks up an apple that she rubs clean on her arm. “Were you at the parade yesterday?”

“Who wasn’t?” Toriel asks while not taking her eyes off the potato she’s started peeling. She throws it into the water filled pot after running her claw around it quickly. The peel she disposes of into the fire.

“You, if any.” Jyuona takes a bite of her apple. “I heard the parade went by this tavern though.”

“I had to get the bowls back from the soup I sold,” Toriel explains while putting up a hand towards Jyuona. “Don’t,” she says.

“Do you really believe-”

“Yes!” Toriel answer while waving a half peeled potato. “Because you’ve already done it.” She sweeps it back over her claw and throw the now completely peeled potato into the boiling water.

Jyuona nods in defeat, “I guess,” and takes another bite of her apple. “By the way,” she says while taking a step away from Toriel. “Who did you bribe to have the prince drink you soup?”

Toriel’s hand contracts, sending the potato in her hand flying out of it with a soft squish. She juggles it clumsily before finally catching it with both her hands. After exhaling in relief she immediately inhales in annoyance. “Is that a rumor now?”

“Just a thought I had.”

“Is it gonna be a rumor?” Toriel asks while leaning in hard on Jyuona.

She isn’t fazed by the act. “You’re my friend.” She takes the last nibble out of her apple, and tosses the core into Toriel’s fire. “So yes.”

Toriel’s brow sink so low her scalp is almost split in two. “Jyuona,” she states with a growl.

“I’m just kidding, Tori.”

Toriel returns to her chair.

“Don’t worry, I won’t gossip about you and the prince having a blossoming romance kept secret from everyone because your love exceeds the thickest lines in our country! Class lines!”

The knife next to Toriel would look great inside Jyuona right now.

“I would wait until you two are inseparable. The story would sell for so much more then.”

And that boiling water would make for an excellent bath as soon as Toriel finds the extremely heavy lid to it. 

“So no, no rumor at this very moment,” Jyuona finally comes clean with a burdened heart. “I will carry this secret upon my shoulders until my dying breath.”

“Or your exasperated gasp over the amount of G someone offers you for the story,” Toriel is quick to remind with poison to her tongue.

“Whichever comes first.”

“Of course.”

“No, but seriously.” Jyuona jumps up to sit on the cupboard. “How much did you pay them?”

“Nothing,” Toriel answers. Again!

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t even know from who-” 

“Whom.”

“Shut up. I don’t even know from where he got it. Must’ve been one of my customers yesterevening.”

“If we’re stating the obvious, yes,” Jyuona agrees.

“No one looked particularly royal though. I mean, it was an enormous rush, so I might’ve missed that one of them had a crown and royal clothing with a ring of guards around him.”

“Maybe you do need glasses? You’re peeling turnips instead of potatoes, you know?”

Toriel snaps her eyes back down to the vegetable in her hand. It’s a potato. From behind her Jyuona is doing her worst at containing her giggling. “So, anyway.” Toriel resumes peeling. “No, I don’t have a clue from whom,” she says loudly, “he got the soup from. The owner is trying to work that into a slogan now. He rejected my ideas, which means it will be a horrible one.” Toriel throws the last of her peeled potatoes into the water with a flick of her thumb. “As usual.”

“I see.”

Toriel hears the disappointment in Jyuona’s voice, and she doesn’t agree with it one bit.

“That could’ve been your ticket up, Toriel.”

“My ticket where?” she asks back with a face scrunched in disgust. “The castle? Spend my life cooking for the Royals? The only praise being that they finished their plates, reluctantly? No, I want to actually do something with my life. There’s a bit of a ceiling when it comes to career options there, Jyuona. There’s no going higher outside your field. If I’m in, then I’m in for life. I wouldn’t be able to go to university after a couple of years of making ends meet like I’m doing now. I’m not even sure I’d get pay more. My pride to be working for the Royal Family would be pay enough, right? Besides, all the interesting ones are hereditary, so that’s already long gone for me. Generations long gone, even!”

“Not my fault you filled out the wrong form before you were born,” Jyuona defends with both her hands against her chest. “It was just a suggestion. For being so reserved about them you sure do know a lot, Toriel.”

“I overhear what the drunken guards that slither down from the castle say every night, Jyuona. First hand recollection of what’s inside those pearly gates.”

“Do they tip well?”

“Ha!” Toriel scoffs. “A wishing well, that’s more closer.”

Jyuona’s shoulder raise in a contemplative shrug. “I mean, I’m sure plenty of people throw coins into a wishing well.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Toriel sighs as she motions with her hand underneath the potato filled cooking vessel. The fire recedes a bit, keeping the water just simmering.

“So what do you mean?” Jyuona asks out of immense curiosity. “What beans do the guards spill when you serve them your own home cooked beans?”

“Did you know that Gerson, the leader of the Royal Guard, is a bit of a zealot?”

“To the crown? Yeah, I guessed as much seeing as he’s the leader and all. You know, kinda comes with the job description.”

“Exactly!” Toriel snaps her finger over to Jyuona. “Turns out that the stereotypes are rooted in reality. Our reality. Honestly, when have you seen something that wasn’t anything but the secrets everybody knows?”

Jyuona cocks her head up the stairs. “The parade yesterday? That was quite something. I’m still kinda shivering after that whole collective soul thingy. Hard to describe, really. It felt good though, and I felt everyone else feel that it was good too. The food was damn good as well. You’d fit right in in the castle kitchen.”

“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?” Toriel wonders out loud.

Jyuona rolls her eye. “I guess not if you’re gonna act like that about it. Did you even participate in that collective soul sharing? I’m pretty sure you didn’t, since that would feel like a clump of ice floating along on a hot summer’s day lake.”

“No,” Toriel looks away, pretending that the fire needs to be attended, “I didn’t.”

“Guessed as much. You saw the fireball exploding at the end though before the prince rolled out of sight?”

Toriel struggles to force her lips to stay still. “Yes,” she says after swallowing her laughter, “I did. Very dangerous, things could’ve caught fire.”

“The prince’s magic is strong, gotta give him that. To keep that enormous ball under control, and also keep the explosion safe?” Jyuona lets out an impressed whistle out of her beak. “He must’ve practiced that for a year or so. Otherwise...wow. If he could just do that out of the blue without any practice? Damn, he might even be as strong as a human.”

Toriel lets out a bothered exhale that almost snuffs out her own fire. She’s quick to restore it, but Jyuona notices.

“Sorry,” she says with her head lowered. “Didn’t mean to. I know you’ve been saving up for that university.”

“It’s fine,” Toriel smiles. “If anything it’s good motivation. If that ponce with too many silver spoons in his snootle to count can do it, so can I! He’s never done a day's work in his life, and successfully identifying the salad fork is worth a proclamation for him. They’ll wonder if I’m bringing the Sun in as a gift when I return!”

Jyuona gives Toriel a thumb up along with a hearty chuckle. “You do that, Toriel! You go, girl!”

“But first!” Toriel pushes her hand down on her knee as she stands up. “First I gotta get the money for it, and that means step two of cooking. Serving it.”

“I thought step two was the actual cooking?”

“No, step one is getting the ingredients, which also means preparing them. Step two is when you have the prepared final product and you were just kidding...”

Jyuona’s smile and guilty posture tells as much. “Maybe?”

“Either way, you’re in the way now, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine!” Jyuona jumps down back to the ground. She goes in for a hug with Toriel, and gets one back. “I’ll see your later, Toriel. Have a good workday.”

“Evening,” she corrects.

“Have a good eveningday.”

Toriel pushes Jyuona away from her with an exasperated scoff. “Told ya you should’ve stayed in school.”

Jyuona waves goodbye, and takes her leave up the stairs. Toriel returns her focus on the final touches on today’s special. Just a bit of seasoning…and...perfect.

As she comes up the kitchen basement with the potato pot carefully in both her hands she spots someone at the door looking around for something.

“Welcome!” Toriel greets. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll be right with you?”

She turns around to fetch the rest of the pots, leaving the stranger to pick out a table for himself. When she returns with those she finds the stranger still at the door. Heavy rain is pouring outside. Toriel gets a bit worried about Jyuona, but she can’t let that show for this new patron. “Could you close the door behind you, please? You can hang your coat by the hearth.”

//

She’s…


	4. Lingering flame looking for the hearth

“Excuse me, fellow commoner.”

Asgore gets a very perplexed look from the monster he approaches. “Y...yes?” the large white wolf answers, his varicolored eyes blinking rapidly in baffled unison as he’s interrupted with three large and heavy boxes in his arms. He sets them down with a controlled grunt. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a bowl,” Asgore asks, making sure that his voice is not at all near his own. It’s a good mask, if he does say so himself. Which he does, with his masked voice. He sounds nothing like himself.

“You-” The wolf’s brow shoot down, almost blinding him. His bright ears flop down as if fainting. “A bowl?” he asks to clarify as his dangling ears lay limp. He couldn’t have heard that right. Right?

“Yes, a bowl,” Asgore repeats with a soft circular motion of his hand underneath his overlong coat. “A wooden one, to be precise.”

“That’s not helpf-” The wolf clears his throat of confusion, and by the sound of it, it’s a monumental excavation. “Where did you lose it? Somewhere nearby? If you’re in need of one I can offer one of my own.”

“Oh no no no no. I do appreciate the sentiment,” Asgore assures with a small laughter. “No, I’m looking for a specific one. It was lost yesterday, during the parade.”

“Can’t remember seeing any bowls during the parade,” the wolf monster informs after some thinking with his arms crossed.

“Not even from the parade itself?” Asgore pries.

“No,” the monster say again. “No wooden bowl. There were plenty of metal and silver bowls on the food carriage, but no wooden one. I did hand out food, but it wasn’t in bowls. Don’t worry, we washed our hands before. Thrice even.”

Asgore’s eyes widen in horror. Is this monster...a guard? Uh oh! Although, he doesn’t seem to be recognizing Asgore. He prays that it will hold.

“Sorry, stranger,” the wolf apologizes with a thoughtful shrug, “but you might have to continue your search.”

“You have no reason to apologize, my citizen cohort.” Asgore wishes with warmth. “I thank you for the information, and wish you a good luck in your day.”

“You too!” comes a delayed response after the wolf is forced to shake his head back to normal.

“Must’ve been further away then,” Asgore concludes as he continues his walk away from the castle. “Otherwise he’d seen me throw it away.”

Asgore shouldn’t be surprised by it not being here. The houses aren’t exactly how he remembers yesterday, but it can’t hurt to ask. If anything he’s getting some practice until the last one he has to ask.

As long as his disguise holds.

Asgore tugs at the sleeves hanging over his hands. They’re hanging over plenty already, but a bit more can’t hurt. He’s tugging a bit more careful at the hood over his head. If he pulls too hard his horns might poke through the fabric, despite how thick it is. It is a good thing that today is cloudy. Less sunshine to make this warm experience unbearably hot, and less visibility for the people around him to realize that he’s their Royal Heir.

For once though, he’s glad Gerson shaved his beard. Not out of Asgore’s own volition though, but since he had one yesterday, and not one now, it’s a blessing. 

It’s pretty irritating though, itching like hell. If Asgore gives in to it he might bend his head too far backwards that his hood falls off. Despite it not being broad daylight at the moment, he’s still pretty sure that someone would recognize him.

After all, he was the center stage of a parade drummed of for almost a year yesterday. His face is even on a nearby poster on a billboard he passes. Luckily Asgore’s figure is rather obscured by the long flowing frock he managed to, procure, from a lower ranking priest after his weekly spar, and shave, with Gerson.

Asgore didn’t technically lie about spending the rest of the day meditating over yesterday’s soul sharing with the populous. In a way, he is, but not in a way that Gerson, or anyone else, would guess. If Asgore wasn’t afraid of revealing himself he’d pat himself on the back. Although, he might be able to if he tucks his arm in.

He stops halfway as a small child stops to stare at this large monster flapping his loose arm around. Asgore gives the child a quick smile, and then hurries off out of sight.

He’ll save the patting for later.

Gerson did go pretty hard on him while sparring. To make sure that yesterday’s parade didn’t go to Asgore’s head was his reason. Gerson was the one building the parade up though, making it more important than the sun rising the next day. One day he could’ve allowed Asgore to feel proud and happy before he resumed his training. One single day would be enough!

Alas, no. It’s like a new beginning all over again. Asgore’s an adult now, so adult training will he endure. More advanced combat and tactics, more books to read, more lesson to have, more everything! Asgore’s not afraid of the future though! No, he will welcome whatever hardship that will wash over him.

Although, he wouldn’t mind a day off to collect himself. Not in the way of meditation, that is. Just a day he allows himself to have. An Asgore day. A day spent walking around outside the castle walls looking for the woman that used her magic with his.

Yeah, one of those days sound good. Better yet, if Gerson finds out about it, Asgore can say that he only did it to bring justice. That’s what Gerson’s been drilling into him, so that’s what he’s going to do. Asgore assessed the situation, executed a plan, and saw through it fully. He acted independently, just like Gerson always pushed him to do.

Asgore almost wishes that Gerson was nearby, so that Asgore could laugh in his face. That would earn him quite the punishment though, but not until Gerson and him were behind the walls again. Gerson would never tarnish his work. He would never scold the Royal Heir in public.

Or at least, that’s what Asgore thinks…

A shiver finds its way up Asgore’s spine. Suddenly doubts start creeping in. Was the fireball he left behind enough to mask that he was away? Did he leave enough magic behind? Maybe he should’ve added a bit more. That would’ve drained the strength he needed to scale down the outside of the wall though. It was close, Asgore almost slipped and fell. Good thing he managed to convince Gerson that he’d trim his claws come morn, otherwise he’d been a pile of dust…

No!

Asgore shakes the thoughts out of his head!

That didn’t happen! He survived! He used his skills and his training to survive! He did good! Focus on the task ahead! Meditate on it later if you must!

That’s for when he gets home though, right now he needs to keep moving forward, away from the castle. He’s already gotten a bit of distance, so when, if, they find out, it’d still be a while longer before their search reaches where Asgore is now. 

They’d first start with the castle, then the inner walls, then the outer walls, and then finally spread out in a circle. They wouldn’t make a lot of noise about it though, keep it hush hush. Once it comes to that, Asgore can easily sneak inside when the rest of the Royal Guards are out looking.

It’s fine.

Asgore breathes out his worries.

It’s fine.

Clear your head, focus forward. Keep sight of where you’re going.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

“Golly!” Asgore takes a step back from almost trampling on a monster’s tentacle. It almost dropped its lunch screaming at him. “Forgive me!”

He quickly scurries away, dragging his robe closer over his muzzle to veil it. Close one. Asgore shouldn’t be lost in thought like that. Too many monsters around he can bump into. If he breezes by one with spikes on it the monster might take his robe off! A Royal Heir in just his undergarments. Not even Gerson would be able to confine that.

Head clear, focus ahead, thoughts on the task ahead.

One thing Asgore should meditate on now though, or at least give a good thinking about, as he walks down the main road towards the lower sections of the city. No spiky monsters around.

Why did that woman decide to mix her magic with Asgore’s? What reason did she have?

Again, maliciousness would be something Asgore would’ve picked up on. It would’ve been like a bucket of cold water that whispered threats while it chilled him to his very soul. If anything, Asgore felt a bit encouraged by it. The fierce confusion overwhelmed it though, so he wasn’t able to pick up any specifics that could prove useful in his search now.

Attention? Did she do it for him to notice her?

Wouldn’t she be waving her arms around then, or let her aura be more felt? Make herself as visible as possible among all the other cheering monsters? Were she embarrassed? Did she slink away blushing? Bragging to her friends that she’s been interacting with the Royal Heir?

Asgore’s brow sinks. Maybe then, going to visit her will prove to be fruitful for the wrong reasons. Asgore’s been warned about zealots, and he’s taken the warnings to heart. Or at least, that’s what he’s told Gerson, and now he might be walking right into a pair of zealous arm spread wide open. He needs to be even more careful should the woman prove to be a bit too devout to the kingdom.

So what is she? Asgore’s getting frustrated not being able to make a clear picture in his head, and that’s just hazing it further!

“You!” he says a bit too loud to a nearby monster standing behind a market stall selling ornate pieces of what appears to be frozen milk of some sort. The merchant flinches at the volume of Asgore’s voice, and Asgore retreats his muzzle into his closed hand to cough out some irritation. “Forgive me, merchant,” he begs.

“Something caught your throat?” the merchant asks as he starts to warm up from having his entire body frozen in fear, albeit a bit shaky. “T-then I have the perfect solution! Why not try one of my Nice Creams? Made fresh and served cold on this hot-”

The orange bunny is interrupted by a drop of rain hitting him in the eye. It’s soon followed by another drop, but the second one hits him on the forehead.

“Summer’s...day,” the merchant sighs tiredly with his ears falling down onto his shoulders. With a weathered crank he extends an awning to protect his stall from more weather. He quickly regains his smile, and sweeps his hand over the various colored containers of Nice Cream.

“I’m looking for a bowl,” Asgore asks. “Wooden bowl.”

“I can serve you in one, if you wish,” the Nice Cream merchant informs with a brighter smile.

“No.” When is Asgore gonna realize he needs to be specific from the get-go? “A bowl that was lost during yesterday’s parade.”

“Can’t say I saw one, friend. Is it special to you?”

“Yes.” Asgore nods. “It is.”

“The only one I really say was the one the prince tossed away in triumph, and-”

“Where did you see him?”

The merchant’s almost falls over backwards as he’s forced to crane his neck as far back as physically possible as to not have a bite taken out of his face as this strange stranger slammed both his large hands on the counter and practically flew over it with his mouth almost screaming the question.

“Um...” the Nice Cream clerk manages barely to say. “Just a couple blocks down the road, after that tavern at the corner there.” He points down the road. “I think it landed in an alleyway a couple of houses down the second lamppost.”

The cloud of dust Asgore leaves after him has the clerk shouting obscenities after him. The well chosen words don’t faze him though, merely bouncing off his flowing robe like small pebbles on an icy lake. He turns out onto the street pointed out to him, and shifts his head back and forth across the road, looking for the aforementioned lampposts.

There they are!

As Asgore starts jogging down the street, he starts to feel something inside him. His soul is reacting, becoming aware. Maybe it’s the residue of his mixed magic? It’s growing, but not by a lot. Like a seed that’s just sprout out from its shell. If Asgore wasn’t keenly aware of it before, if he hadn’t dedicated any thought to it, he would’ve probably missed it. Now though? The smallest flicker of a light in a darkness he’s relentlessly peering into.

The feeling is still growing as he reaches where the Nice Cream clerk told Asgore he saw him throw the bowl away. That means that Asgore created the fireball later down the street, so more credence to the bowl being nearby.

In an alleyway? Asgore peeks into the nearest one. Bins and various building material are strewn about, but no bowl that he can see. If it’s here, it means that Asgore needs to scour through the garbage. He pouts his mouth.

Maybe in next alleyway?

No.

Next?

No.

Next!

No!

Next…

No…

And now the feeling in his soul is starting to grow fainter…

Asgore sighs up towards the sky. Dammit.

Thick drops hit him in his nose, and he sneezes violently. He barely has time to shake the drowning sensation off before more drops start drumming on his muzzle. He bends his head down as he forces air out of his nostrils to clean them. Once he’s regained some form of control, he turns around only to see a group of monsters silently staring at him. They disperse as they realize that he’s looking at them, going back to their completely normal business that just happens to include staring at a robed Boss Monsters borderline gargling for air.

Asgore composes himself with a heavy sigh. 

Guess it’s time for the Royal Heir to go dig through some trash…

“Is that true?” a passing monster asks with excitement blossoming like the sun. If it wasn’t behind those pitch black clouds, that is.

“Yes!” answers the monster’s friend, reaching into their bag. “I caught it when he threw it!”

Asgore none too subtly turns his head towards the conversation.

“Yes, I’m gonna pop by the tavern later today and ask the recipe for the soup he was served. My boy is gonna be so happy when I serve him the soup the Prince drank in the same bowl as well tomorrow for his birthday!”

Tavern? Which tavern? The one down the road? “Excuse me!” Asgore interrupts with his hand raised forward. He almost stumbles over his robe as he swivels around faster than even he knew he could. “You say you know which tavern that bowl came from?”

“It’s the one down the road. They sold the soup all evening yesterday, but I never thought it would end up in a such a royal stomach.”

“Don’t think they knew either,” the monster’s friend adds with a chuckle. “What do you think...” she asks to Asgore’s back racing down the street.

So close now! He’s so close! Just a few more steps, and then he’ll be face to face with the woman that he felt yesterday. Just a couple of more houses left to go. He passes them one by one, the latter more quickly than the one before it. Through the heavy rain he can see the warm orange glow seeping out of the windows, coloring the rain like liquid fire. Almost like the shards that were left behind after his fireball exploded yesterday.

It must be where she is, it just has to be!

He’ll barge in, find her, and…

Asgore slows down, his feet sinking down into the loose mud underneath him. The rain keeps pouring, but to Asgore, it’s none existing. Like the large and bombastic drums that were played during his parade less than a day before, the drops smash against his skull, shoulders, muzzle, his entire everything. Yet silent he stands, not moving away from the hurrying monsters weaving around him as they attempt to flee the rain. An energy not unlike the magnitude the same street had as Asgore paraded his magic, but the focused energy is not in celebration now, but in escaping this excessive showering.

Asgore looks down at his hand, the same hand he used to begin his conjuration. It’s quickly filled with water, the opposite of what it was filled with during the moment that led him to standing outside the castle wall in a soaked robe that’s not even his.

Asgore flexes his wrist, and the water in his hand evaporates in a cloud of steam. He returns it to his side underneath his robe.

What is he going to do?

What will he do after he barges in?

He doesn’t know. For the first time since...ever, Asgore don’t know what he’s going to do. There’s no schedule, no protocol, no training for this. 

What should he do?

He has plans for what she will do. Protocol for responding to her actions. He’s pondered every situation he could think of.

What will he do, though? His actions? He...He doesn’t know. Should he go on the offensive? Demand that she explain herself? Does he want her to explain?

What? Yes! Of course he wants! Of...course…

What’s this feeling? This uncertainty? Why is he afraid? He’s the Royal heir! What does he have to fear? Nothing! He’s been disciplined for his entire life! He should- No! Can! He can handle this! There’s nothing in this world that he can’t call upon his training and overcome!

Asgore breathes in deep, expanding his chest with fresh air. He exhales out all his worries into the rain. Let it be carried away from him by the streams forming around his feet!

With determined steps he nears the door. He puts his hand up to the door, and…

It doesn’t open.

With a determined shift of his hand he grips the handle, and opens the door.

The warm light and thick aroma of home cooked meals hit him hard. He staggers backwards, but composes himself. She has to be in here somewhere. She has too!

Asgore scans the dining hall, but he senses nothing. Is she not here? She has to! Otherwise…

“Welcome!” greets a voice. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll be right with you?”

That’s…

He turns around too late, the voice has disappeared! Where did she go?

Wait… What should he do? What did he conclude would be the best approach? Attack? Defense? Negotiation? Friendliness? Hostility? Asgore’s head is too jumbled! He can’t think straight! Too many approaches! Too many angles!

“Could you close the door behind you, please?”

The fierce debate in his head is drowned out. Silenced by an overwhelming voice that screams above them. Roars as the one sole thought occupying his mind completely. There’s nothing else, just one thought that reigns supreme alone inside his head.

“Could you close the door behind you, please?”

She’s…

“You can hang your coat by the hearth.”

Gorgeous.


	5. Soup for the sick

“Asgore is what again?” Gerson leans closer to the guard stationed outside Asgore’s room with his head tilted sideways and one hand cupped at his temple. “In my good ear, please.”

“Underneath six blankets, sir!” the guard informs. “He is very ill and can’t partake in today’s schedule. His doctor has confirmed the diagnosis, and suggested rest to alleviate as soon as possible. You have been tasked otherwise, Gerson. Report to the barracks for your-”

With a swift bonk of his summoned hammer, Gerson hits just underneath the lock of Asgore’s door, knocking the bolt out of position. He swings it open and marches in. “Rise and shine, my dear-”

The bellowing cough followed by a violent heaving into the bucket placed next to Asgore’s bed has Gerson turning right around on his heel.

“Bring him another blanket,” he advises the guard on duty. “I think he needs-”

Another violent heave interrupts Gerson, who closes his eyes against the loud and pungent sound from behind him.

“I think he needs one more,” he finishes before walking down the hall with his hands clasped behind his back.

Asgore can do nothing but moan and snivel. Never has he felt this sick before. Is this was death feels like? He tries to turn back to face inwards on his bed, but the movement has his stomach turning even worse, and he quickly rolls back to spew forth once more.

He can barely hold his eyes open, and in this half conscious state he barely notices another blanket being put on the mountain that he already has. A fresh bucket is given to him as well, and he moans out a thanks.

It’s inaudible.

Why? Why did Asgore lie yesterday? Well, the reason was clear, but why did he have to choose the lie he did?

Why did he say that he was meditating in the rain? That he felt that it would bring him more serenity? That it was the best place he’d ever meditated on? Why did he-

Another hurtful wave of coughs has Asgore’s entire bed creaking. The hill of covers bounce up and down, pushing his chest in every time they land, summoning more coughing. 

Death come through thy gates of the void! Claim this soul so that it may-

Again Asgore is viciously attacked by another choke that sends pain echoing throughout him with each sharp hack. After what feels like an eternity he’s left lying with his mouth hanging open and his tongue flopped to the side. He slurps it back in, and wrestles an arm out towards his nightstand. His cloudy vision has him fumbling for the tissues that he think he heard the guard place there a few hours ago.

His heavy hand slaps against the decorated wood, knocking several things down onto the floor. None of them sound like tissues though, so he continues his scattershot approach to finding them.

Finally he reaches something soft. Fabric as well! He brings it up to his nose, and blows, what feels to him, out his entire soul into the tissue. He slams it back onto the nightstand with a wet splat and turns on his side to alleviate his lungs for a while. Greedily he breathes, feeling the air chafe against his throat.

All of this rain resulting in this dry of a throat. Asgore can’t wrap his head around that. He can barely wrap his head around anything right now, only that he’s very thirsty. Water. Not rain water. Water water. Not on his fur as well. Inside him. Water water inside him. Through his mouth.

With another movement of his hand that is more of a vague suggestion rather than a controlled order Asgore sweeps his hand over to the second nightstand situated on the other side of his bed. His claws smack against some pottery, making an ear piercing sound that manages to pierce even his clogged ones and cause him to shiver. He quickly stretches his hand further, and just barely manages to catch the spinning jug’s ear with one of his fingers. He allows himself a smile that would turn off everyone in his vicinity should there be any. To him though it feels like ecstasy.

Clumsily he moves the jug over to his mouth, spilling plenty over his many blankets in the short yet violent travel it undergoes. With imprecision he moves the lip of the jug up to his own, and slowly he starts to pour.

The jug crashes against the back left pillar of his bed as he flies upright in reflex trying to cough out the water flowing into the wrong pipe. He breathes sharply between the spouts of hacks, but still he feels winded. It takes a solid minute or so before he has the strength to fall down on his back again.

“Is this what death feels like?” he asks the roof of his room. “If it is death, could I at least have a bit more...”

Asgore flies upright again, but this time it’s of his own volition. His head doesn’t quite follow entirely, and his vision darkens for a bit before it manages to catch up.

“Guard!” he yells.

The guard bursts inside. “What is it-” He flinches back as he sees the chaos around Asgore. His ruffled hair, the distress of the thrown blankets covering most of the floor, the jagged shards of porcelain lying at the foot of the bed along with a large puddle of water, and the prayer he was given by the High Priests slobbered and crumbled lying halfway over the edge of the nightstand.

The guard shakes the image out of his head. “What is it, Prince?”

“I need-” Asgore coughs once into his fist. “I need you to put in an order for the soup that I was served during the parade. Tell the High Priest that it might strengthen my soul since it could remind it of when I was healthy.”

The guard is hesitant to obey.

“I just want the soup, dammit!” Asgore half yells before heaving a choke that he hears echoing down the castle halls. “And have it be made and delivered by the maiden that cooked it that day.”

“I...I will relay your order, Asgore.”

Asgore extends a thumb with great effort, and summons a smile that indeed has the guard turning right around and bolting away from him.

Then he collapses.

//

“An order of Seven Sowls please!”

“I’m afraid that’s not on the menu!” Toriel shouts over her shoulders as she finishes preparing five plates of today’s special. With lightning speed she assembles the plates on an empty tray and carries it over to the appropriate table. She has to navigate carefully around the packed tavern, each step she takes is as focused and precise as the most professional dancer. She shifts her weight back and forth, slinking through gaps she shouldn’t really be able to fit through.

Once she’s reached the right table serves it with a smile and warm wishes. With the tray underneath her arm she scoops up dishes from the tables she passes on the way back towards the counter. She dumps them all into the brimming barrel of dish water and dries her hands off on the towel tied on her waist.

“Anything else I can get you?” she asks the monster standing with one leg up on the foot rail and with his elbow and forearm resting on top of the counter. “We have today’s special, which is-”

Toriel’s interrupted by an envelope that the white wolf slides over to her. He nods at it. “I’d appreciate it if you kept this quiet, my maiden.”

Toriel drags her claw over the top sealed envelope while eyeing up the wolf. She shakes out the note inside into her palm, and unfolds it. Her eyes widen as she does, and the wolf pushes himself away from the counter. “We will be escorting you out of sight,” he informs before exiting the tavern.

Toriel feels her grip on the note tighten and tighten for each time she reads it. She doesn’t even hear the complaints from the customers tapping the wood on the counter right next to her to catch her attention.

Her claws dig into the expensive paper, but it doesn’t tear. It’s strong, and she reads it again. 

“Dammit,” she whispers.

Why? For God’s sake, why? She doesn’t have time with this! Just a waste! She shakes her head in an attempt to get it out of her head, but it sticks. Like a fly trying to escape warm sap. She lifts her head up to glance outside the windows facing the front door street. There’s no wolf in sight. She looks out the windows facing the corner, but there’s no wolf there either. She doubts he’d be able to see her actions through the sea of heads bobbing up and down as they eat, but before she has time to summon her magic to burn the note in her hand, a hand is placed on her shoulder.

“Go down and whip it up, Toriel,” her boss asks of her. “I’ll take care of the place for now, you do what you need to do.”

“How-”

“You’ve been standing still for a solid minute now. You didn’t even notice me reading it over your shoulder.”

She spins around, her eyes and mouth quivering.

“It’s fine,” the owner calms with a hearty chuckle. “You’ve earned it.”

With a comforting pat he gently moves her over to the stairs leading down into the kitchen. 

“And...Toriel?” he says just before her head is fully submerged. She peers back at him with only her eyes and horns peeking over the floorboards. “Good luck, and thank you.”

She nods quietly before descending entirely.

Once down and alone in the kitchen she grabs the nearest oven glove to stuff her mouth. Angrily she screams into it.

“Dammit!” her muffled voice rages. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”

Did Jyuona send word that it was Toriel that made the soup? Why! She told Jyuona that she didn’t want to work there! Now, the day after, a castle guard comes in civilian clothing and offers Toriel to cook for the Royal Family? God dammit! Why, why, why?

Toriel throws her fist against the nearest pan. It swings wildly from her punch, and on its way back it smacks her on her nose. She grabs it by the handle, squeezing it tightly. With her entire weight behind, she hits a nearby sack of rice with it. And again. And again. And again.

Then she sits down heavily on the upside down barrel that she uses as a stool. She leans her forehead against the pan, and heaves a weary sigh.

She needed that.

Toriel throws the pan up on the stove and snaps her finger underneath it inside the firebox. Quickly she dries off the tears forming in her eyes. She can’t cry over this. She’ll figure it out, she has to. If she gives up now it’ll be a disaster for the tavern. 

“It’s just an order,” she says to herself.

She has to do it. She has to cook it. Otherwise it might spell the end for the entire tavern if their chef refused an order from the Royal Family. They’d be blacklisted everywhere. Toriel doesn’t like it one bit, but she’s not gonna abandon her boss, not after what he’s done for her. If he hadn’t stopped her she would’ve torched the letter to ash.

She was close to doing that. Just a snap away. She was so angry! It still burns inside her pocket, like hot coal. Had she burned it though, the guard might’ve-

“It’s just an order,” she repeats to herself, running her hands down her face tiredly. “It’s just a normal order for a normal person,” she continues in a last desperate attempt to convince herself. “Not for anyone of the Royal Creed. Just a normal order to be eaten by a fellow commoner.”

Oh god! She’s horrible at lying.

Toriel’s hands slips off her unconvinced head, and bounce off to the side on her legs. She sighs again. The smell of the pan being preheated enough follows her inhale, and she moves it over to the smaller plate. She replaces the pan with a pot that she fills with water. She arranges the ingredients for the soup on the working top, and then sinks down on the barrel again to start with the vegetables.

Maybe she can decline the offer? Perhaps? What wrath would she incur should she dare stand up against the Royals though? How heinous would her heresy be should she decline their offer?

As Toriel starts peeling the ingredients she runs through some of the outcomes she can think of should she say no.

Best case scenario is that she is allowed to leave without anything happening. Not a chance of that happening though! She’d have better luck peeling this next onion in one go.

As she carefully runs her hand around the onion, she finds that it’s slipping off much easier than she expected. With a scowl on her lips, she slashes the peel with her thumb.

See? No chance at all of that happening! Never in a hundred years would they just pay her and send her on her merry way.

So that’s out of the picture, which is a shame since it’s the only part of the picture Toriel would want to be. No, what’s looming above her like the marble white castle walls are soon to as well is the Royal Family offering her the employment stated in the letter. She’s gonna decline the offer, obviously.

But what if she’s not allowed to leave then? Have her choice made for her? Quote unquote, employed, by the Royal Family as a cook. Is she gonna spend the rest of her life slaving in front of a stove, feigning respect for the ones she’ll serve?

That will crumble at the first hurdle, since, as Toriel’s already established, she’s a horrible liar.

“Good morning, my majesty, who’s reign will be eternal, and such our prosperity entwined with it!” she greets to the half peeled carrot in her hand, held high above her head like the Royals are to her cast.

Nope!

Toriel tosses the carrot over her shoulder, smiling as she hears the soft splat of it hitting the wall and bouncing into the trash barrel.

“And to you, my pompous Prince!” she greets to the unpeeled potato she picks up from the sack between her feet. “May I recommend a reality check this fine morning? Maybe go outside the castle wall more than once in your entire lifetime? See the actual struggles of your people instead of just talking about them?”

With three quick slices she forms a rudimentary face on the potato. “Of course, you peasant,” it replies with a mocking voice, bobbing up and down in Toriel’s hand as it speak. “I was actually thinking of touching the dirt as well!”

“Oh my!” Toriel flusters with her hand gingerly pressed against her chest. “The actual dirt, my liege?”

“Correct!”

“Well, you need a healthy breakfast then!” Toriel starts peeling the rest of the potato. “And a shave.” She flicks the naked potato into the boiling pot next to her. “And a hot bath.”

“Good ideablublublublub.”

What the hell is she doing? 

Lamenting her last days of freedom, probably. Her entire life is gonna condense inside four marble walls that stand high and proud. Let out for a brief moment every week only to get janked back inside by her collar. Spend her days in front of a stove with tens, if not hundreds, of other monsters running back and forth in a panic because the Prince felt that his soup had the tiniest pinch of too much salt.

Getting her head chopped off when they find out that she was the one to accidentally do it.

Toriel runs the slicer across her throat. She then tilts her head over to the side while she extends her tongue.

“That’s what you get for making a mistake!” informs Prince Potato The Second. “I’d say she was the salt of the earth, but I’ve never seen it from the clouds where my head’s always at, so I wouldn’t know.”

He also retires for a hot bath.

Perhaps she needs to see the positives? What would she gain from joining as a Royal Cook? Pride? Joy that she’s serving her country, literally? Her food will be instrumental to the future of her country. The egg and bacon she serves the King for breakfast will give him the strength to lead and to make the hard decisions no one person should.

Whether he wants his eggs hard boiled or served sunny side up.

Toriel hates herself for causing herself to giggle at that.

She really can’t think of anything else other than it would be her honor to work at the castle. Nothing that she can do here, at least. Hell, she can do even more here! She can quit! She can do something else if she wanted! Save up money to go to university and study! Have control of her own life. Should she sign it away though for the, again, quote unquote, privilege, of working at the castle…

The sizzling of the pan has her shaking her head to try and focus. Whatever happens there, she has to make the soup the best she’s ever made it. A Royal Stamp on this tavern is gonna bring in so much traffic, and a blacklisting for refusing to cooperate is gonna siphon away even more. She’ll be locked inside the castle with the knowledge that she at least made the tavern survive, so in the end it might not be all that bad?

Maybe…

Once the soup is done, Toriel pours it into a small round casket that she packs inside a sack with the tavern’s name on it. She takes one final look at the kitchen before drying off her eyes. She walks up the stairs while steeling herself for the journey ahead.

“To Toriel!”

The entire house cheers in unison, raising their mugs high. Toriel recoils, and almost stumbles down the stairs she just came up from. Her boss catches her in the last second, and pulls her into a warm embrace.

“You be good, kid. We’re all gonna miss you.”

She embraces him back. “I will too. Thank you for letting me work here.”

“Anytime, kid.” Toriel’s boss gives her a soft pat on her back. “Anytime.”

Her eyes sweep the dining hall, smiles meeting her on every face. She scoffs, knocking away a tear in her eye that she dries immediately after.

“Well… I’m off to the castle.”

“You are, kid.”

The weight of everyone’s eyes hangs heavily on Toriel’s back, and she readjusts the bag’s weight before pushing open the front door for the last time.

Once outside, she notices a guard running up the street towards the castle. The guard disappears in the sea of people, and she walks after it.

“She’s the messenger,” comes a voice from behind Toriel. She turns around, but can’t spot it. “You don’t have to run if you don’t want to. The soup will stay warm even if you walk, correct?”

Toriel nods. “Yes, it’ll stay warm.”

“Good, then after you.”


	6. Sick to the stomach

Heaven! Heaven has descended upon Asgore! Taking physical form between his hands. The soup he had on the parade, the nectar that made him one with his people. It’s here again, warm and steaming in his gentle caress. Slowly he raises the bowl up to his longing lips. It’s hot, almost too hot, but it’s so good! It’s…tasteless.

Even while breathing in as hard as he can, even as he can clearly see the steam hover into his nose!

Nothing.

He tries again, dragging a breath so hard he might inhale the entire castle. He’ll inhale every brick and every nail if it means smelling the soup!

Absolutely nothing.

The following sigh from Asgore has the castle moving into the next country. He’d rather take a diplomatic crisis now than this cursed sickness at the moment though. Can’t even taste the best soup he’s had his entire life!

If only she had accepted the offer. Then Asgore would’ve had this fantastic soup every single day. It’s not a taste he’d ever get tired of. At least he got a glimpse of her again from his window. Even through his hazy eyes she was still as gorgeous as when he saw her through healthy eyes.

Just the thought of her warms as much as her soup. Asgore has to see her again, and actually meet her this time! No more tactical retreating, no more stunned disbelief.

He has to study, make a plan of approach. Maybe if he were to spend the day at the library? There has to be at least one book about this kind of situation. Asgore can say that he’s researching approaching the common folk. Technically he’s not lying about that.

“Guard!” he shouts through his stuffed muzzle. “I’m heading to the library.”

Asgore lifts the soup up to his mouth again and drinks the rest. Despite not tasting a thing, the texture is calming enough. None of her magic this time though…

No, focus! He’ll get through this. He’ll… He’ll…

//

Toriel flinches as an incredibly loud sneeze seeps through the large gates from which she was just let out of. She almost drops the letter of recommendation and sign extension for the tavern in her hands. The guards stationed outside the gate motion for her to move along, but she can see their faces begin to twist into amused snickers.

A nice cherry on top of these last handful of minutes. Toriel’s head is spinning, be it from confusion, or immense relief. Perhaps a slice of both? Either way, she’s feeling a bit light headed from all of this.

Toriel said no, she declined the offer. She went into the mouth of the beast, and was spat out when she asked to be. She wasn’t swallowed whole, not even a nibble. It could’ve eaten her without even chewing.

Yet, here she is, outside, with a letter of recommendation for her cooking, and a sign extension to display that the tavern is a Royal Supplier.

But...how? Toriel turns around, squinting against the white marble reflecting all of the high noon sun. It’s the castle! The Royal Family! Literally on top of a hill overlooking the peasantry below. Noses so raised that it’s no wonder they sneeze this loud! The councilor could sense her reservation, he could sense her not wanting any part of what he was offering. None of the honor, none of the pride, none of the security.

He understood! He nodded as Toriel declined. A vague attempt to get her to rethink, and a proposal to meet again next week should he have changed her mind. Did he play to her nervousness? Try and have her feel that it was wrong to say no?

Toriel scrunches the letter in her hand, but she’s hesitant to burn it. It’s worth too much, and she hates that she has to admit that to herself. She may be able to use it to further her chances to get into the University. A last resort though, she’ll use if it if she’s got no other options.

She’ll get her foot inside without the Royals’ help first and foremost! Having a safety net is comfortable though, Toriel won’t lie about that. Mainly because she’s so bad at it.

At least she can breath normally now, only now having realized that she’s been tense all the way up here, and during the meeting. A weight is off her shoulders now, and she exhales calmly with the wind dancing around her. 

She survived.

And she didn’t leave empty handed, so all in all, a net positive. She’s free to go, and that she will, right back down to the tavern.

Wait a minute… 

Toriel halts in her step, as if she just walked into a wall made by the thought that just struck her.

They said goodbye to her. They cheered for her future. The entire tavern had their mugs raised high for her, wishing her good luck in her new career at the castle. Her boss drew a stoic sob for her as she left. He was so proud of her. He didn’t say it, but Toriel could see it in his eyes as he smiled at her. He always said that he knew that one day she would, and that day was today for him.

Now Toriel is just gonna go back? Hang up the sign, pocket the letter, roll up her sleeves, and go down into the kitchen again?

She groans as she feels another weight pushing down on her shoulders. Her head seeks comfort in her hand, and she massages her forehead with the tip of her fingers. She blows her lips tiredly, throwing her hand down, and tilts her head up to the sky.

“This day...” she sighs towards the sun.

Not even this day, these last two hours to be more precise. Getting the invitation, cooking the soup, walking up to the castle, and now realizing that she has to walk back to the place where she walked out of for the last time.

She hasn’t even had lunch yet!

“You seem troubled, friend.”

The least you could say. Toriel meets the voice, despite the overly obvious remark. An orange rabbit is beckoning her attention, sweeping his hand over an assortment of small bowls filled with some creamy treat. Looks to be cold, Toriel could sure go for some of that right now.

She decides to humor the rabbit, approaching the stand while readjusting her grip on the sign extension under her arm. “Good day,” she greets. “What are these?”

“Frozen treats for a day this warm. Made fresh, and in a variety of flavors. Say, you wouldn’t have a friend with a long and dark coat?”

Toriel inspects the products on offer, trying to guess the taste from the shape and color of what’s presented. “No,” she answers. “Why do you ask?”

“Yesterday I had a Boss Monster as a customer that did a number on my stall here, knocked it over while sprinkling dirt and dust all over it. Was very rude behavior.”

Toriel nods, despite not listening. “I see.” The one furthest to the left looks to be some form of apple, perhaps? Maybe peach?

“I made a report about it.” The clerk huffs and crosses his arms angrily, his long ears folding backwards like a pair of wings. “But you know the constabulary’s quote unquote, efficiency, around here. Makes you almost wish for a raid to wake them up a bit.”

“How much for this one?” Toriel points to the peach or apple one. “Is it apple?”

“Peach, and 15 G.”

Fair enough. Toriel reaches into the pockets of her dress, but her fingers don’t quite reach, the sign extension is in the way, and it’s too cumbersome to move her other arm around it. She hands it over to the clerk who clumsily wraps his arms around it. “Hold this for a moment, please.”

“Y-yeah,” the clerk spouts, fumbling to get a grip. It’s a bit too heavy for him. Luckily for him, Toriel has some exact change in her pocket, and she puts it on the counter while motioning for the clerk to hand the sign back.

He does so with a grunt, and takes some deep breaths afterwards. “Thank you for yo-” He freezes when he sees the ornate lettering on the sign. “Y-you were in the castle?”

“Only this one, thanks,” Toriel answers before quickly turning on her heel and slipping back into the crowd behind her. Close one.

The, whatever it is, is quite tasty indeed. Maybe Toriel should suggest hiring a monster that knows ice magic to her boss. Would help with keeping the beer and wine cool as well, and this would sell like nothing else if the weather continues like this.

After she manages to explain why she’s back, that is. 

Right…

Maybe she should do the same like what she did the councilor, just say the truth. She didn’t want to work at the castle, end of story. Reasons her own, and no one else’s. As it should be. Not that it will be, but as it should be. 

No matter the reaction she’ll still feel guilty for not stopping the celebration before it happened. The happy cheers still ring in her ears, no matter how much she tilts it over and smack the other side of her head to get it out. It’s just something she has to live with now.

It’ll blow over in a couple of days, she reckons, but those days will be heavy on her conscious. Maybe she’ll be lucky and something will happen that will move everyone’s minds away from her denying a job at the castle.

If only the parade was a couple of days later.

Although, that would mean that none of this would’ve happened in the first place. Well, pushed forward a couple of days.

The last scoop from her frozen treat catches only air, and Toriel discards the bowl and spoon in a nearby trash barrel. She stops as she remembers how it feels to lose a bowl, but the clerk didn’t say anything about bringing it back, so it should be fine.

That’s what she’s gonna tell herself.

Although…

She quickly takes back the bowl and inspects it. With a couple of elbow streaks it shouldn’t be that different from the ones she uses at the tavern. 

And she’ll have something to drain focus away from her not accepting the offer!

Might be just briefly, but it’s better than nothing, right?

She can see the tavern now. It should feel like home, as it usually does, but right now it feels as cold as the castle. Maybe when she spends some time with the warmth of the hearth and stove it’ll come back, but now it feels like deep winter even with the summer sun blazing with all its might above her.

Out of the frying pan, while using the frying pan, into the belly of beast, and back again to the frying pan.

Now she has to the dishes.

Her boss turns his friendly smile to the door as she enters the tavern. “Welcome…Toriel?”

She waves the bowl in her hand with a proud smile while quickly moving behind the bar. “Found the bowl that was missing!”

Her boss blinks in confusion. “That’s...good.” He places the tankard he was cleaning upside down on the bar. “Why are you-”

“I’ll wash it along with the other dishes I see behind you,” Toriel says while leaning the sign extension against the wall. “Gonna need a lot of clean plates after you hang this one up! Better get to it so we don’t get congested the wrong way.”

Toriel squeezes herself past her boss with the bowl clearly visible for all to see. She stacks it on top of the barrel of dishes, and carefully carries it down into the kitchen.

She barely has time to roll up her sleeves before she hears another pair of footsteps descending down.

“There’s people still in line upstairs.” Toriel says without turning around. “I’ll do the dishes quick and join you as soon as I can.”

“Toriel.”

“It’ll just be-”

“Toriel.”

“Five minutes!”

The clinking and soft murmur ceases from upstairs, creating a silence that falls heavy, almost smothering with its weight.

“Toriel.”

“I said no!” She pushes her hand down into the cold water of the washing up barrel to fetch something, just something. “Alright? I said no. I declined, I don’t want to work there.”

“Why not?”

Her fingers wrap around the pot she used to cook the soup earlier. Her frown deepens, and she feels around for something else, driving the entire length of her arm down to scrape the bottom. She finds a small ladle, and pulls it out rapidly, almost creating a rapid gushing out of the barrel.

“Because I don’t,” she answers while averting her boss’ soft eyes. She reaches for a nearby towel and starts drying off the loose pieces of wood still stuck on the wood of the ladle. “I don’t want to work there.”

“For what reason?”

“It’s just-” The ladle almost shatters in Toriel’s grip. “I don’t want to work there, that’s all.”

“It’s a much better place than here,” her boss admits without the slightest hint of sarcasm. It’s pure, unfiltered truth that flows from his mouth. He wants to understand, but Toriel doesn’t want to explain. “Imagine what you could do if you had more tools, more people to help you, a better mentor to teach you. This is such a wonderful opportunity for you, Toriel. You’ll be among your own, you know?”

Her scowl intensifies, and a dark hate blossoms like a haunting shadow across her furrowed expression. “What do you mean by that?” she growls angrily.

“I did not mean it like that, Toriel!” comes a pleading response, filled with sorrow and confusion. “You know that I don’t. I know that you know that I don’t. Why are you angry, Toriel? Help me understand. You haven’t hesitated to come to me for advice before, so why now?”

“Because...”

“Is it because it really is because of your kind?”

Toriel throws the ladle back into the water, causing a splash that coats the wall behind it. She falls down onto her makeshift chair, and her head disappears into her hands. “I don’t know...” She heaves a thick sob. “I don’t know. I’m confused. I don’t know if it’s because of that. There are so many other reasons, but...”

She sighs out another sob.

“I don’t know about that one,” she admits again. “I want to be sure, but I can’t. A peasant Boss Monster like me going to the castle to beg for a job.”

“You didn’t beg though, Toriel,” comes a gentle reminder from a voice filled with care. “They came to you with the offer. They wanted you there.”

Toriel looks off to the side.

“And they didn’t do it because you were a Boss Monster. How could they have known? As if those up nosed Royals would care what you look like.”

Toriel scoffs. “You’re horrible at advice.”

She’s retorted by an eyebrow raised high. “What does that make you if you always come to me for them?”

“I gotta get my daily dose of laughter somehow.”

Two friendly arms are extended towards the lamenting Boss Monster. “Come here, Toriel.”

She goes down on one knee, allowing her boss to at least get up to her neck. She embraces him, and receives a couple of reassuring pats on her back. They might be like slapping a towel on a boulder, but to Toriel they’re strong enough to resonate throughout her.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want, Toriel. I’m glad that you’re back, and I’m not angry that you declined. We got a sign extension out of it as well, so in the end it’s all good. I’m more happy to have you back though, have no doubt about that.”

Toriel wants to hug him harder, but doing so would probably kill him, so she restrains herself, reluctantly. It feels a bit better having vocalized her feelings a bit. Cleared her head somewhat. Feels good to have vented. She’s so lucky that she has this small creature at her side.

“We can handle ourselves upstairs if you need some more time alone,” Toriel’s boss informs warmly as he wiggles himself out of Toriel’s hands. “Take care of the dishes if it helps you think.”

Toriel drags her arm across her nose. “Thanks, I will.”

“Just clean your arm before you return to the dishes.”

She scoffs away some tears. “I promise.”

“Good.”

She’s left alone as her boss ascends the stairs with three quick hops. He might be small, but he’s nimble. She dries her nose again as she feels it’s needed to not drop snot into the dishwater. If she’s unlucky she caught whatever that loud sneeze had inside the castle.

//

“No!”

Asgore throws his stained towel away, scrambling to catch the scrolls and loose pages his sneeze tossed into the air like dandelion seeds blown by a hurricane. The mixed smell of new and old parchment mix together in Asgore’s nose, and the few pages he managed to catch bounce back up in the air with gleeful flapping.

He’s so sick of this illness.

“Dammit!” Asgore curses before being forced to reach for his towel again. He blows his nose, almost sounding the Royal Guard to rally with how loud and brass-like the sound is. He tugs at his mantle, pulling it closer around his pathetically hunched posture that has him looking a million years older than what he actually is. He snivels, waking up dead.

“Not even illness preventing you from studying?”

Asgore turns his head slowly around, it’s the only speed he can muster up. With much of his remaining energy he tugs at his cheek, summoning a smile that’s anything but comfortable. “Gerson...” he tries to articulate through a barrier of snot.

He scoops up a scroll as he walks up to the Prince. “Studying...” His brow sinks as he stops in his track. “Informal formalities?”

Uh oh.

“The parade made me curious about my future people,” Asgore explains after blowing his nose one more time to allow himself to think. “I want to be able to talk to them on their level, know their stories the way they themselves tell them.”

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please.

Gerson skims the scroll in his hands, his face contorting into a variety of expression. Once done, he rolls it up again, and throws it before Asgore. “I guess some light reading is best for you now so that your body has enough energy to also get you healthy enough to continue your ordinary schedule.” 

Yes!

Asgore composes himself before his immense relief seeps out of him. “I should be back to strength in a couple of days, according to the doctor. I hope you’re not idly wandering the halls while I’m like this, Gerson?”

He shakes his head after a breathy laugh. “Don’t you worry about me, Prince. This castle isn’t only you.”

Asgore draws a snotty breath. “I know that, Gerson.”

“Right now I was asked by your mother to see how your health is progressing. She wanted to know before her travel to join your father at the seminar.”

“She might not be happy with your report.”

Gerson nods in agreement. “She won’t, but it’s the one she’ll have to hear. Good luck with your studies, Asgore, and get plenty of rest when you’re done.” He bows deeply before exiting, closing the door behind him.

Asgore exhales a heavy and relieved sigh, and for the third time his material flies away from him. He manages to snatch one out of the air.

“Approach with confidence, as with battle. Assert your will, as with battle. What follows are a few examples that have proven to work,” the scroll reads. “However, only draw inspiration to make your own. A plan copied is not one of honor. Accumulate effort now to be used later.”

And effort Asgore will spend! This ailment griping his body will not take his mind! He will find a way to woo, no, court, no! Asgore consults a nearby book. Approach with interest. Yes, that sounds good.

With quill in hand with steel grip, Asgore begins.


	7. Flint on the tinder

“Can I-”

“I’ll be with you soon.”

“But-”

“There are others before you. I’ll be with you soon, I said.”

Asgore’s almost knocked off his seat as a family of six squeezes past him. He surveys his surroundings. It’s almost as packed in here as it was during the parade. It took him fifteen minutes just to worm his way to the bar, and his cloak was almost dragged off his head numerous times.

“Order fifty five of Seven Sowls?”

She seems to be very busy tending to the, almost, hundred of guests practically leaning over the counter with bowls waving in their hands.

That new sign Asgore bumped his head into outside must’ve been the reason. 

‘In service to the Royal Family’

Asgore sees it waving outside in the blazing orange of the setting sun over countless heads. Someone else must’ve bumped it as well. A second later an armored guard comes into view of the window, massaging his head with his helmet in his hand. Asgore turns his back against the window, moving the fabric a bit more over his muzzle. He’s gotten back some of his beard now, so he has to be a bit more careful, his muzzle tucked back to hide as much as possible.

Maybe he should come back another day? There’s a constant influx at the moment. Monsters pouring in from the constantly opened door. Just getting out is gonna be a problem, but it’s better to cut this loss sooner rather than later.

Soon he won’t be able to move at all.

He’ll retreat for now, a tactical setback. Plan for another day when this has settled down a bit.

//

Toriel wakes up with her entire body aching. Yesterday was a chore, more than usual. She knew that the sign extension would bring in more customers, but so many? There wasn’t a second she could catch her breath on. Constant serving, constant cooking, constant moving. Never has she felt so tired as she did yesterday evening at closing time. Never has she felt such a sense of pride and accomplishment though. 

All of yesterevening was the fruit of her experimentation with the soup, her declining the Royal Family’s offer, and her putting her back into every movement she did.

It’s aching though, maybe she put a bit too much back into it.

Her pain washes away as she sees the overflowing bag of coins on her drawer though. She has to get a bigger pouch, a much bigger pouch. If this continues she’ll be able to get to the University by the end of the year! The thought overwhelms her, sending it concentrated out of her eye in a heavy tear that runs down the entire length of her smiling muzzle until it drops off, and landing in her palm.

She inhales, proud and pleased.

This is what she’s been working for, this is finally her proving herself to herself. 

She exhales, proud and pleased.

It should be time for her to get up and go to work now, but it isn’t. She’s deserving of a day off, and she’s gonna snuggle up every minute of it, every last second. Then she’s gonna go back tomorrow, fresh, and ready for more!

But for now she’ll close her eyes again, and let the early morning birds sing her back to sleep.

//

“No, Toriel doesn’t work today. She’s on a day off.”

What!

“I see,” Asgore says after swallowing his shock. It’s hard, and takes a toll on his throat. “Thank you.”

“We still serve the sou-”

The friendly informing disappears behind the thick wooden door Asgore closes behind him. Day off? Of all the unlucky! He sighs, leaning back on the door. He pushes off it immediately after. No! Unforeseen consequences, he should’ve prepared for that. Nothing he can do now but walk home and sneak back inside.

If anything the travel is giving him plenty of time to think, so when he finally do catch her attention he’ll be more prepared. Silver lining.

Golden lining as well. Diamond, even. He knows her name now.

Toriel.

And what a lovely name it is.

“Toriel,” Asgore mouths quietly to himself. He feels his tongue articulate every letter of it. It dances in his mouth, gently brushing against the roof and floor like the most daintily maid. “Toriel,” he repeats.

He feels his soul fluster as it can finally put a name onto the feeling Asgore’s been searching the entire town for. It feels good to have accomplished something by himself. He saw a situation, planned, and executed his own strategy out of his own volition. The spoils are for him alone, and the best is yet to come.

He doesn’t feel excited for it though. Well, he does, immensely so, but it’s dwarfed by another feeling towering skies above his excitement.

Asgore holds out his hand, seeing it quiver, shaking like a scared child. He balls it into a focused fist, but it keeps shaking. What is he afraid of?

The answer is clear to him, very much so. 

What will he do if she says no?

Try again until it works?

No, the scrolls were very clear to remove the knife if it starts digging deep and causing pain. He’ll have to go over his plans again tomorrow again to make sure it doesn’t happen, and then another time, just to be sure.

If only he could practice with someone, but doing so would require Asgore to confess to things that would have Gerson pop out of his shell with fury. 

No, this is a one prince operation. To be done by the prince, for the prince. Asgore will prove to himself that he can act independently, that he can be the king that his people want.

Asgore punches into his open palm, scaring a nearby monster. He’ll get through this, he’s determined to.

Just need to get back to the castle and go over his plans, again. Pop down to the library quick to see if there are any more texts to help him prepare, again. Run through some plausible scenarios with his figurines, again.

And finally, go back and try again, again.

This he swears, as a prince, and a future king!

//

“Welcome back, Toriel! How was your day off?”

Toriel feigns a yawn as she stretches her arms up behind her head. “I did nothing but sleep.” A real yawn sneaks up on her, and her jaw opens further. She hastily moves her hand over her mouth to quell it, but it keeps going, almost unhinging her jaw like a snake. Once it finally fades she’s forced to dry some tears away from her eyes.

“Looks like you slept a bit too much there,” Toriel’s boss laughs out while handing her some water which she gladly accepts. “You can go home and sleep some more until the dinner rush if you want.”

Toriel shakes her head while drinking. “I’m fine,” she says after swallowing. “Just gotta get going, that’s all.”

“You don’t mind making a batch of your soup? We had some patrons yesterday that asked for it, and you as well.”

Toriel finishes tying her apron’s strings with a furrowed expression. “Me? Why?”

“Some lady wanted to know your recipe, others wondered where you were since they came in for some of the soup, and then there was this hooded person asking your name.”

“Again, why?”

“He’d heard wrong. He was looking for someone else with a similar name to yours, and went wrong.”

Toriel can’t do nothing but shrug at that. “Alright then. Anything else?”

Her boss shakes his head after some thinking. “No, not really. There was some minor complaining about your snoring making it all the way here, but that shouldn’t really bother you now.”

Toriel sends over an unamused eyebrow raised high. She gets three playfully bouncing back, and her serious facade fades into a leisurely scoff. She receives an encouraging pat on her back as she heads down to the kitchen to begin her workday. 

//

Asgore needs to sit down a bit. He landed a bit weird on his foot as he dropped down. Not broken, and not enough to have him worry, but he feels like he needs to stretch it out a bit before continuing. 

He finds a stone bench on an oval overlook, and sits down carefully. After some careful stretching he turns around to stretch out the front of his ankle. He leans over the stone wall, and is forced to squint as the low sun hits him right in the eyes.

Once they adjust themselves, he almost drops his jaw.

The rolling green hills, with the long and slithering rivers dancing like thick veins throughout them, all coming together to form the crystal clear lake just over yonder that sparkles like precious gems in the sun. The city below is bustling, with the glimmers of candle lit windows almost mirroring what the stars will be in the upcoming night sky.

This is the place. This is where he will take Toriel. It’ll be perfect, as it almost matches the view from the castle.

Asgore takes in his surroundings, mentally marking what kind of houses are, and how this place is in regards to certain main roads. If only he could see the tavern from here then he’d have an easier time finding his way back to it. It would mean a bigger chance that Toriel would’ve seen it by now though.

Higher risk, higher reward.

Asgore’s not afraid of a challenge.

His ankle feels as springy as ever now as well.

Tonight is the night!

//

“Oh this outta be good.”

Toriel sizes up the swaggering stranger that just entered the tavern. His brisk step swaying his flowing robe, with a hood bouncing with each confident step, revealing a white muzzle dragged into a cocky smirk in the midst of a beard that flows like sunshine.

She turns her back to him as to not reveal her amused smile growing out of control.

Jyuona leans over the bar. “I can taste his intentions from all the way over here,” she whispers to a giggling Toriel. “Like five whole cans of spices.”

“Stop it,” Toriel whispers back harshly, her voice cracking from her snickering.

The stranger seats himself on a bar stool, leaning his impressive weight onto his elbow with his forearm bent in towards him. It's not long before he catches the attention of Toriel again, who approaches him with a friendly smile, having exhaled as much giggling as she’s able to. 

"What can I get you today?" she asks while brushing her hands off her apron.

"Tell me," the patron says while straightening his back out in all its impressive length, making sure that his chest expands like the bellows used to fuel the crackling hearth in the middle of the tavern. "If I told you your body was beautiful,” his deep and smooth voice asks with a supple pause to breathe in wishfully, “would you hold it against me?" 

Toriel calmly, yet firmly, points towards the door. "Please leave." 

//

…

//

“I thought that it was a good one,” Jyuona comments with an impressed frown as the door is closed behind a head heavy as a mountain upon a pair of shoulders weak like twigs. She takes a swig of her tankard. “I’ve never heard it before. Although, I’m not really in the lane of that as much as you are, Toriel.”

She snaps her finger. “Exactly. If I’m being coy it’ll only bellow their egos, so when it eventually pops it’ll be a much louder sound than if I just say no to begin with.” Toriel nods to a waving patron a couple of tables away. She starts rounding the counter. “Better to cut them off before they start getting attached. It’s the more humane option.”

“You’re such an angel, Toriel. Protecting the men from themselves.”

Toriel leans in towards Jyuona as she passes her. “Exactly.”

“He looked cute though,” Jyuona whispers back, only to get an amused scoff in return.

“Yeah, sure.”

//

No! No! No!

Asgore leans onto the wall, almost slipping down as he stares blankly up into the pink sky. 

All of his plans, like dust to the wind. He’s done so much, only to have it come crashing down at the first hurdle. His mind has been occupied by all of this ever since the parade. Not a single moment has passed without him thinking how to approach, what to say, when to say, who to say.

All gone.

He’s failed, despite his best efforts, despite his determination to see this through. He’s taken so many risks getting here, but it’s all for nothing. 

He can’t remember feeling as stunned as when he did just a moment ago. He did everything like what his research had shown would work. He was confident, he was straight to the point, and he had a good ice breaker. It was textbook, it would’ve been applauded, but all he got was an open palm pointing in the direction of the door.

Her voice, ice cold. Her words, like venom. When she repeated herself, Asgore could do nothing but cower. Worse than Gerson, worse than anything Asgore could’ve planned for. Her statement shook Asgore to his very core, to his soul. Still now it flusters in a state of half panic.

“Please leave.”

Her voice rings like loud brass bells, tolling for him to leave.

“Please leave.”

An echo, stronger than before. A derivative more powerful than its origin. Her repeating that statement commanded more authority than Asgore’s ever done in his entire life.

He chokes, but instead of him sliding down more, he extends his back. He drags his arm hard across his eyes.

No! He won’t cry over this! He will steel himself! His plan is in ruins, so that means that he has to figure out a new one, and quickly! He will not falter because of this! He will learn, adapt, like a true Royal.

But how?

//

“He’s still standing there.”

Toriel peeks up from underneath the bar. “Who?”

Jyuona points to the window next to the front door. What looks to be an elbow is bobbing slowly up and down, the shadows from the patterns of the window following gently along.

Toriel’s eyes narrow hard. “Guess that’s the reason why it’s so slow today.”

“Or it could be because it is slow that he’s still standing there?” Jyuona retorts with a quick shrug.

Toriel almost fills her chin full of splinters as she drags it hard across the bar over towards Jyuona. “Or it could be the scary dark hooded stranger standing next to the door with his arms folded?”

Jyuona heaves a quick shrug. “With a face like his I wouldn’t be afraid to get a little closer.”

Toriel throws her head towards the front door. “Go right ahead then, Jyuona. I’ll comp a round for you two if you get him away from there.”

Jyuona taps her finger on her cheek as she thinks. She swivels side to side on her bar stool, loudly humming. “Nope,” she finally says, punctuating by spinning around full circle. “I want you to go and woe him away.”

“Ok?” Toriel’s eyebrows shoot up into the roof. “Why?”

“Because I saw you hesitate for just a moment before asking him to leave.” Jyuona wiggles her brow playfully. “Never seen you do that before, so there must be something about him that struck you as well.”

“Yeah,” Toriel nods once while looking over to the peeking elbow, “his dark robe and hood coupled with that awful pickup line.” She dives back down the bar to continue sorting the bottles.

“It wasn’t awful.”

“Yes it waaaas.” Toriel lifts her index finger above the counter. “Very much so.”

“Have you heard it before?” Jyuona pries.

“No, but-”

“Then it wasn’t awful.”

Toriel’s loud sigh is amplified by the empty space underneath the bar, like a guitar. “When you’ve heard as many as I have you start to get a feel for when it’s awful.”

“He was cute though.”

No answer.

“Ha!” Jyuona leans over the bar. She pokes Toriel on the top of her head. “Knew it!”

Toriel swats Jyuona’s hand away. “He wasn’t bad looking, that’s all I’m gonna admit.”

Jyuona keeps her leaned posture, crossing her arms underneath her torso for support. “So what’s the damage, really? Judging by the fabric on his robe he must be somewhat rich. Worst case is that he’s boring.”

“Or a murderer,” Toriel adds irritably.

“As if anyone could lay a finger on you without your permission. Well, except me.” Jyuona flicks Toriel’s horn, and earns a very stern look that would have anyone else flinch their soul out. “Anyways, you’ve been looking for new kinds of bottles to stock the bar with, so why not lean in on him to fetch some new ones the two of you can taste. He’ll be the one paying, so why not?”

Toriel’s unamused face slowly rises up from underneath the bar. “You’re insane, Jyuona,” she states very clearly.

“I’m just trying to help you, Toriel. If you’re planning to attend the University then you need some experience in dating.” Jyuona throws her open hand towards the door. “You have one now literally waiting on your doorstep. He’s one of yours, he’s cute, he’s rich, he came for you. He’s gonna melt in your hands if you as much as sigh in his direction.”

“She’s right, you know?”

Toriel glares at her boss. “You’re not seriously agreeing with her, are you?”

Her boss shrugs before descending down the stairs. “Whatever makes you all puffy like this, Toriel. Always a treat to see your horns almost popping off.”

“See?” Jyuona puts her hand on Toriel’s back. “Now out with you.” Toriel doesn’t move, despite Jyuona putting in all her weight on her push.

“Make sure to have him buy something expensive!” Toriel’s boss advises from the kitchen.

God damn every one of you to hell.

Toriel sighs heavily. “Fine, but I’m kicking him to the curb at the slightest wrong.”

“No,” Jyuona leans in for a final push, “you wont.”

//

No, that would probably have her call for the guards. Can’t have them find out that it’s Asgore dancing on one of the tables. How about-

“Hey.”

Asgore flinches away from the voice. His horns bump the sign, and he’s forced into a bow. He massages them underneath his hood while breathing through clenched teeth.

//

Toriel catches the sign extension flapping violently from the stranger’s scared recoil. This is gonna be worse than she thought, and she curses Jyuona under her breath.

//

“H-hi.” Asgore finally manages to say as he notices who the voice was from. “I-It’s you.”

She nods. “Yes, it’s me. I could hear your thinking from all the way inside. What are you doing?”

Asgore tries his best to stand up normally. “I was just...thinking, as you said.” A quick laugh escapes him despite him not summoning it willfully, which prompts another one.

//

Ok? Is it even possible to blush as much as he’s doing right now? Toriel, for some reason, finds it a bit endearing. Here’s this big, broody, intimidating figure, giggling like a child. Wait…

“How old are you?”

Just to be safe.

//

“I became an adult not so long ago,” Asgore admits bashfully with his hand behind his neck in an attempt to hold his head upright. “Is it obvious?”

//

Does the sun rise every morning? 

//

“I’m sorry if I in any way caused you unease.” Asgore tugs a friendly smile. “I see now that my studying might’ve caused me to assume a bit too much.”

//

Wait, wait, wait, wait. “You studied what? How to approach women?”

The stranger nods.

“Like, books? Scrolls? Scripture?”

He nods again, now blushing like the reddest of sunsets. 

Toriel puts a hand up to her forehead. “Oh my god.” She scoffs. “So this is your first time trying this?”

A very weak, yet also very guilty, nod is followed by a smile that’s trying to save the red face it’s stuck to.

Why did she waste her ‘Oh my god’? Dear oh dear, this guy is more green than fresh grass! He looks as if he’s been fighting off girls his entire life, but he acts like Toriel is the first one he’s talked to! 

Jyuona was right, but not about him being cute! He’s just-

//

Asgore feels a cold chill run up his spine as Toriel quickly averts her eyes while clearing her throat. He might as well cut his loss now rather than later. He’s way in over his head, and-

//

“Listen-”

Toriel recoils back a bit as the dark hood spins around quicker than she can react. She shakes her head to get back on track.

“It’s pretty obvious that you’re in too deep for your own good, and that you don’t can’t even begin to fathom how to swim.”

“I can swi-”

“Thank you for proving my point,” Toriel interrupts quickly. “Thing is though that...” Toriel cranes her neck back as she hates herself for not being able to shake this feeling off. She’d carve it off with the dullest knife possible if she could. He is though...but she can’t say that! “I think that makes you a bit...” Argh! What to say? “I don’t know…Interesting? Not repulsive? I mean, it’s the first time I heard your pickup line, so I guess there’s that. It’s wasn’t too bad, I have to admit. Guess that puts you above anyone else that have tried.”

Why did she admit that?

//

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

//

“Just a bit though,” Toriel adds immediately after with haste. Mostly to herself. “You seem quite rich with your fancy robe and all that, so I feel that to repay that favor you can spend an hour or two looking for some fancy wine for us two to share?”

//

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Sounds good to me.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

//

“Do you want to meet here...um?”

Yeah, what is his name?

//

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-

Oh yeah, what is Asgore’s name?

“My name’s A-”

IDIOT! Don’t use your own!

“I’m...Are.”

WHY?

//

Hold on a minute here! Something’s fishy.

How does he pronounce it?

“Are? As in, Áre, or Aré?”

//

Just pick one! It doesn’t matter! Well...it does, but not in that way!

“Àre.”

//

“Right. Wanna meet me here in two hours, Are?”

“Actually,” Are points up to towards the city, “I passed a place that I thought was very nice. Maybe we can meet there?”

Why not? “Sure.” Toriel nods. “Where is it?”

//

…

No.

…

No!

Think! Think! Where is it?

“It’s...um…” Just something! “You don’t happen to know about that frozen treat stand a bit ways up?”

“Matter of fact, I do,” Toriel answers with a smile. “You think he’s open by now though? Don’t now if frozen treats sell well during the night.”

“No, no, no, no!” Asgore exhales a relieved laugh. He knows the way from there at least! “We can meet there, and then walk from there! The place has a beautiful overlook over the city, I promise you!”

//

Toriel can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, some of it even slips over to her. “I’ll see you there then after I’m done working, Are.”

//

“B-by the way!”

//

Oh he must be catching on to that it works now, he just has to.

//

“W-what do you want to drink? M-might be a bit strange hearing someone else ask you that, right?”

//

Alright! He knows!

God dammit…

“Something I can’t find here in the tavern would be nice. Something new to my palate. You wouldn’t know though, come to think of it.”

//

“I-It’s fine! I’ll figure something out.”

//

Fair enough.

“Great. See you there then.”

“Yes, see you.”

From inside, Toriel’s boss does her an immense favor by calling her over for help. She closes the door after a small wave with her hand to Are.

//

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No! Stop! Focus!

Asgore’s can’t let this slip out now! He’s so close! Where can he find wine at this time of day? Wait, where can he find wine, period? He doesn’t know any markets! The only bottles he’s seen are…

Asgore’s eyes move up to the castle.

How long did Toriel say? Two hours? He’d have to run all the way up, sneak inside, and then out again, and again run all the way to the stall.

And even that would take-

No! Again! No! Focus! Do what has to be done for the plan to succeed! So close now! Can’t let it slip away!

Asgore breathes in calmly for the last time these coming hours. He pushes off the wall, and starts running.

//

“Look at him go!” Jyuona points out the window while pumping her other fist in the air. “He’s so fast!”

Toriel slinks quickly past her.

Jyuona doesn’t let her pass without a quick tug at her shoulder though. “Told you he deserved a second chance!”

Toriel clears her throat. “He’s paying for the wine he’s bringing, so I got what I wanted out of it.”

Jyuona nods without being convinced in the slightest. “Sure…” She keeps nodding, with increasing levels of condescending. “Which is why your voice shoot all the way to the moon when he suggested that beautiful overlook.”

Toriel’s lips pout into a scowl, but she does so to mask the smile that she feels building up.

“And just a bit adorable?” Jyuona scoffs loud for all to hear. “Please!”

“So I fell into your master plan, Jyuona!” Toriel smacks her towel over her shoulder a bit too hard for her not to hide it having an effect on her. “I hope you’re happy.”

“And I hope that you are.”

The sincerity in her voice catches Toriel off guard. She lets the smile loose. “Thank you.”

“You need some time for yourself, even if it is with someone else, but you know what I mean. I admire you working this much to be able to go to the University, Toriel, I really do.” Jyuona puts her fist on her chest. “I wish I could as well.”

“You can. Just-”

Jyuona puts her hand up to Toriel. “Don’t interrupt me while I’m singing your praises, alright?” She puts it down again on her half almost empty tankard, which explains why she’s so emotional all of a sudden. “Anyways,” Jyuona quells a burp, “for as much as I admire you working yourself to the bone yet still coming back the next day with a smile.”

“Same here!” Toriel’s boss shouts up from the kitchen.

“I believe that going from working a hundred and fifty percent over to the University will be such a jarring shift of tone for you that you’ll snap. Ease down a bit before going there, that’s what I’m trying to say here.”

She is so drunk.

“I’m fine, Jyuona.” Toriel says while carefully easing the tankard out of Jyuona’s hand. “I appreciate your concern though.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“Great!” Jyuona’s head slams down on the bar.

“And there we have it.” Toriel puts her shoulder underneath her friend’s arm and eases her around to the small storage room behind the bar.

“I put Jyuona in storage, can you throw a bucket of water on her if she doesn’t wake up before I leave?” Toriel asks down into the kitchen.

“Sure thing!” her boss replies. “Just let me know when you have to go to your date.”

Date?

Does Toriel really have to call it that?


	8. Sparks flaring up

Breathe! Breathe as hard as you can! You did it! You’ve ran quicker than you’ve ever done! Now breathe! In! Out! In! Out! Be greedy! You can’t show this to her when she arrives!

BREATHE!

//

Very strange that someone would be sawing this late at night.

Toriel cocks her head to try and find out exactly where the sound comes from, but she can’t pinpoint where exactly. 

It’s near though, and she’d rather not get some sawdust on her dress. Sauces and such she can get rid of, but sawdust itches something fierce when it’s soaked into the fabric. Itches her fur after she’s cleaned it off as well.

//

She’s soon here, don’t panic. She’s soon here, don’t panic. She’s soon here, don’t panic.

//

That should be enough resting for now. She can’t show up out of breath, so a little breather to relieve her legs from having to walk up the borderline mountain again this week.

//

And he’s dropped a glass as well! It’s all coming apart! Falling over like a stack of papers in a hurricane! Why did Asgore ever think it would-

“Hello again!”

//

Has he already had a bottle of his own? Why else would he stumble and stagger like that?

//

“Yes, hello, Toriel!” Asgore clears his throat, swallowing is hard since it’s pretty overused, having probably circled enough air to last a lifetime during Asgore’s desperate marathon. “Glad you could make it.”

She nods, and all the pain that was screaming Asgore deaf from inside fades away until nothing but a subtle whisper of it remains. She tilts her head with a smile, and the whisper disappears completely.

“I see that you brought some wine.”

Asgore nods very sheepishly, almost overly excited. He dials it back a bit before handing one of the bottles over. “It’s a vintage Royal Purple.”

//

Toriel’s eyes widen while her jaw slams into the ground. He’s right! It is a vintage Royal Purple! How the hell did he manage to find this? It’s even got the stamp of no sale on it.

“Was it akin to what you asked?” comes a very defensive question, almost begging.

“Y-yeah!” Toriel blinks hard just in case this is a dream. “It’s sealed with silk and everything. How did you find this…” Toriel lifts a very shaky finger over to the other bottle in Are’s hand. “You have two?”

“I didn’t know how much you wanted, so I brought one for each of us.” He taps his claw awkwardly on the bottle in his hand, almost as if he has no idea how much it is worth. “I kinda dropped a glass on the way here, so I don’t really know how we’ll drink it.”

Toriel’s brow furrows. “You don’t want to share?”

//

Move! Move something! An arm! A leg! Something! Breathe as well!

//

“Did I say something wrong?”

Are’s mouth flaps for a while before he manages to produce words. “N-n-no. N-nothing. D-do you perhaps want to go to t-that place I was talking about?”

“Sure, lead the way.”

“A-after you.”

//

No…

Idiot.

//

Toriel coughs an amused chuckle. At least he’s trying, she can give him that much. 

//

Asgore’s steps slow down as he starts to hear voices arguing as he and Toriel approaches the destination.

“You’re here for the balcony?”

Asgore nods to the annoyed monster standing with arms folded and brow furrowed, stopping only short of tickling the top of his scowl.

“Well, get in line! We’ve waited here for an hour, at least.”

A line? Asgore leans around the corner of the house, and his heart sinks like a stone dropped into an empty lake. It’s absolutely crowded! So many monsters! Elbowing each other to get some space as if fighting for the last cinnamon roll in the land.

“Oh, it’s this place.” Toriel realizes as she follows Asgore leaning out to see. “I’ve heard of this. Best view in the entire city. Everyone knows about it.”

Everyone…

“You thought we would be alone here?” she asks after her and Asgore has retracted their necks. “That’s a long shot, even if it is a normal weeknight.”

Everyone knows about it…

//

“Hey, don’t worry.” Toriel gives Are a reassuring pat on his back. Again, at least he’s trying. He was beaming with excitement only to have it drain away faster than a blink of an eye. She can’t help but feel a bit sympathetic to him. “We’ll find another place. There are plenty that have a nice view.”

“Yeah.” Are sighs heavily. “I guess. I staked this out because I found it to be best though. Forgive me for not considering that others might’ve seen it as well. I apologize if I let you down because of this, it was not my intent.”

Oh he is so dramatic. Why? Is this really such a big deal to him?

A big deal because it is for...her? 

Toriel composes herself before her heart starts to melt. 

It’ll stain her dress.

Yeah, that’s why.

“I have an idea if you still want to have a view of the city,” Toriel proposes after beckoning Are to follow her. “The place has a great view, but it’s not, well it’s not completely legal. It won’t get us in trouble though, I promise.”

Toriel can see that Are is opposed to the idea. His mind must be churning like crazy, it’s leaking out of his dangling mouth as a low hum.

“There’s a store nearby that has, well,” Toriel tilts her hand back and forth while cocking her head to the side, “less than a stellar lock on its roof access. I’m pretty sure I can open it with my finger and with the pin at my girdle. If not, then we can just stack some boxes to reach the ladder. What say you?”

Are nods after some heavy deliberating, during which his hum increases in volume quite rapidly. “Sure?” he halfheartedly agrees. “I could try and talk with the other monsters to see if I could get them to relocate?”

Toriel leans in with a raised eyebrow. “Do you believe someone else could convince you to give that spot up if the two of us were there?”

“No, but-”

“Then neither can you with them.”

Are puts down his extended index finger. “I see what you mean.”

“Great!” Toriel takes lead. “You don’t mind a woman leading?”

//

But! 

Chivalry! 

This wasn’t in the texts! Quite the opposite! They implicitly stated that Asgore were to be the lead, to be the sword, and the shield! This is-

//

“Come on now, Are!” Toriel puts her arm underneath Are’s and lifts him out of his thinking. “This isn’t a Royal Purple robe, it’s a commoner’s. I appreciate you giving it some thought, but it’s fine. Just come with me.”

//

She...touched…

“Yes!” Asgore clears his throat. “Sorry. Let’s go.”

//

A minute or so afterwards of more walking the duo slink into an alleyway.

“You keep watch,” Toriel orders Are with a whisper. He salutes, which strikes Toriel as a bit odd, but whatever. She then starts working on the lock holding the ladder out of reach. It’s not been replaced since last time she did this, and since then it’s gotten some more wrinkles from being exposed to the weather like this. 

She ain’t complaining though, should be easier than ever.

//

Back and forth? No, too much movement. Stand salute? No, not enough movement. How about-

Asgore’s shoulders is tapped on. He turns his contemplative head around to meet Toriel.

“I’m done,” she says with a patient smile, and motions for Asgore to follow her. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“Not really.” Asgore rolls his ankle as it, for some reason, makes itself aware all of a sudden. “I can handle heights.”

“Good.” Toriel nods as she rattles the ladder. “After you, then.”

The entire house seems to shake with her rattle, and Asgore hesitates for just a moment as he debates how safe this is.

Not a lot, he concludes almost instantly. 

Toriel rattles the ladder again. “You said you weren’t afraid, Are. What’s with this scared expression?”

“You said you’ve used this ladder before, Toriel?”

“You asking if I weigh as much as you?”

//

That might’ve been a bit too much of a tease. Although, Toriel sent over a very exaggerated look, so hopefully he caught on that she was joking.

//

No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!

That’s not what he meant! No! What has he done? It was the first rule of the scrolls! Don’t imply weight!

//

“Oh well.” Toriel mounts the ladder, “See you up there,” and begins her ascent. It’s not the most stable ladder she’s used, but it’s also not the most unstable one. It leans a lot towards the unstable one than the stable one though, physically as well, so the sooner Toriel gets up, the better.

//

Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up! Don’t look up!

//

“You coming?” Why is he suddenly so damn tense? He’s almost crushing the bottle in his hand. Guy must be terrified of heights if him only thinking about it sends him into this tensed state.

“I’ll climb once you’re up,” Are answers after a visible swallow.

“I am up,” Toriel answers back. “Crane your neck up, don’t be afraid.”

//

That’s not-

No! No such thoughts!

Asgore grabs the bottom of the ladder.

//

“Finally.” Toriel helps Are with the bottles and single glass so that he can climb up the roof more easily. He swings his legs over the top, and breathes out. His ragged exhale speaks of his fear. Oh well, maybe a glass of wine outta sooth him down.

Toriel sticks her finger into the cork, and twists it out with a satisfying pop that echoes throughout the alley below. “Wow!” she reacts with a gleeful laugh. “Good stuff, Are!”

“T-thanks? I guess. You haven’t tasted it though?”

“A pop like that can only be produced by the wine being older than time itself. You’re correct though that I haven’t tasted it yet.” Toriel puts the tip of the bottle against the rim of the tilted glass in her hand. “Let’s change that.” She pours the glass, placing the bottle on the top of the chimney next to her once she’s done. A quick swirl and sip later has her eyes shoot wide open. “Oh...my...god.”

“How is it?” Are asks timidly.

Toriel hands him the glass while smacking her lips and tongue in as many ways as she can. Are gives it a taste.

//

Tastes just like wine.

//

“This is the best wine I’ve had in my entire life!”

“Oh yeah.” Are nods in agreement. “Me too!”

“Thank you, Are. Really, this is fantastic.”

//

YES

//

“How did you get a hold of it?”

//

No…

“L-like you said, my family is rich.” Asgore chuckles. “I just found it in our basement, that’s all.”

“Won’t they be mad when they find that it’s missing?” Toriel wonders with a raised eyebrow. “I know I would be if I found out that two of my most expensive bottles were missing.”

“It’s fine, they won’t notice,” Asgore assures with a smile.

“Really?”

Yes, because if they haven’t noticed that the Royal Heir is missing then they won’t notice two bottles out of a thousand missing.

“Yes, really. You said you wanted something new that you hadn’t sampled before, so that’s what I brought with me.”

//

For her? Borderline stealing?

Toriel’s not sure how she should feel about it. She’s not worth stealing for, is she? Stealing, what has to be, the most expensive wine there is?

She’s sure what she actually feels though, and that she can live with.

“Are you gonna hold it all fancy like all night or can I have some more?”

“Oh, sorry.” Are hands Toriel the glass back. She sips some more. It really is something extra, this. Maybe enough for him to deserve Toriel taking some interest?

Maybe, depends on what he answers.

“So, what do you do, Are? What’s your occupation besides coming up with horrible pickup lines and asking out bar maidens to drink expensive wines on rooftops?”

“Well...I suggested the other place. The one that was busy...”

Toriel slams a pat on Are’s back. It doesn’t move him one bit. Toriel expected him to flinch, but he’s solid as a mountain. He must be really strong…

She swallows the thought. “Yes, yes, but what do you and your family do to be able to afford this?” She drinks some more before handing the glass over to Are. He spins it around so that his sips are not touching where Toriel had her lips.

“We’re...”

//

Shit! Something! Just say something!

“We’re merchants.”

//

Merchants?

“Merchants?” Toriel takes the glass in her hand again. “What kind of merchanting do you do? Jewelry?”

“More or less.”

“Mhm?” Toriel says with her mouth inside the glass. “What’s the store called?”

“It’s not an official one. No storefront.”

Are again spins the glass around. Toriel deliberately put her lips where he did his, and just like her guess, he spun the glass away from that spot as well. “No storefront? So just orders and such? Secret ones? Maybe to the Royal Family?”

And just like that it all becomes clear for Toriel.

“That’s how you got this wine!” she says in triumph, almost spilling the wine from the glass. “Of course, it all makes sense now.”

“Guess it does,” Are agrees while scratching the back of his neck.

Toriel halts the glass just in front of her lips as her brow furrows hard. “So you’ve been inside the castle?” She drinks with her eyes narrowed.

“O-once.”

Now that’s a lie, Toriel can clearly tell. “Just once?” she challenges while narrowing her eyes harder. “I don’t believe it. Not with that robe you’re wearing, and also this wine. That’s more than a single visit, it has to be.”

“My parents visited and got me these.”

Toriel swirls the last bit of wine left in the glass as she sizes Are up. She’s forced to concede as the telltale signs he was showing before are nowhere to be found now. “I see.” She throws the last drops into her mouth before refilling the glass again. She makes sure to put her lips on the last open spot left on the rim. She can see Are shifting uncomfortable, and she almost chokes on the wine. She hands over the glass with a sinister grin.

//

Should Asgore dry it off? There’s nowhere left for him to not touch her lips now! Did she do it on purpose? She seems so unfazed about it.

//

“I’m surprised you get to be this free despite being in the employment of the Royal Family.”

//

Asgore sees an opportunity to not drink from the glass, and takes it quickly. He moves the glass from his lips in feigned bafflement.

“How so?”

//

“Once you sign that contract it binds your life as well as your time and labor. You can’t get out of it, not alive that is.”

//

The facade becomes reality.

“What?”

//

Toriel folds her arms. “That’s what I read in the contract that was given to me after I was offered a job at the castle.”

//

She was?

//

“Yeah, I’ve been there too. Don’t fall off out of sheer shock now, Are. You remember that sign extension you bumped your head on? It was given to me since I gave the prince the soup he drank during the parade.”

“Oh...yeah.”

Toriel swivels her head around. She must’ve heard wrong. “Did you see it? It took place down there at the tavern,” she says while pointing at it. It’s barely visible, but she knows the area around it enough to spot it all the way from where she is right now.

“I...did, yes. I was visiting a friend at the time. The Price looked like he enjoyed it.”

Toriel nods. “Looks like he did since the tavern now has that extension. You caught a glimpse of the fireworks as well?”

It takes a second or so for Are to nod. “Y-yeah, I did. It exploded.”

“It did. A lot that royal education does if the prince can’t even keep a fireball under control.” Toriel scoffs. “I’m betting his teachers told him it was the best he could’ve done as well. Rained praise upon him like those embers did.”

//

“What the hell happened with that fireball, Asgore?”

“I-I don’t know!”

“Don’t knows is what causes magic to explode like that! You almost torched an entire neighborhood! You made a promise that the parade wouldn’t go to your head, and still you made that fireball way beyond your limits. If you’re so cocksure about your abilities then I guess it’s time to step it up a notch here since apparently you’re in the upper echelon now?”

“N-no, Gerson. I p-promise, it wasn’t me!”

“You also promised you wouldn’t showboat, and you did that plenty before you decided to make that fireball. Your words are hollow at the moment, Asgore. Why should I believe you?”

//

“Are?” Why is he sniveling? “What is it? Feeling cold?”

“A b-bit, yeah. I’ve been bed ridden for a while, guess some sickness still linger.”

Toriel looks at the glass, horrified. “And you felt the need to not tell me, why?”

“I-I’m not contagious, it’s just that I haven’t recovered yet from it.”

Toriel nods slowly. She’s not entirely convinced. “Alright,” she still says. 

“S-so what about you, Toriel?” Are asks after clearing his throat. “What do you do for a living?”

//

Why…

//

Toriel can’t help but chuckle again. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you have some more wine.” She refills the glass and drinks some before handing it over. “Or maybe I should? I know I won’t be able to get more myself for quite a while now with the embargo on Royal Purple deliveries. This might be the last one I get to taste, ever.”

She’s starting to feel a bit of a buzz herself, especially after downing this last glass. It’s a comfortable one though, just a mellow and giddy feeling. It’s well on its way to becoming a bit more though, especially after downing this last glass. Toriel chuckles, for no particular reason. Must be the buzz.

She hopes that it is the buzz, that is.

Toriel catches Are drying the rim with his robe, but she decides not to call him out on it. He might be buzzing up too.

“I’m guessing you wanted to ask how I got the job at the tavern, right?”

Are nods with his muzzle in the glass.

“Well, it isn’t really that exciting of a story, really.” Toriel leans back on her arms. “I just showed up one day there and asked if they needed help. Never heard someone yell ‘YES!’ so loud in my entire life. The day after I was given a dress and a quick tour of the place, and ever since then I’ve been there, cooking, serving, throwing out guys who think they’re clever with their pickup lines.” She tilts her head condescendingly over to Are who averts his eyes while scratching the side of his throat.

“Sounds like you’ve had your hands full then.” He chuckles to himself before drinking some more wine.

“Yup.” Toriel almost has to wring the glass out of Are’s hand before he lets it go. “Plenty on my hands. It’s all for something though.” She swings the glass in a downwards arc, sending drops clinking gently against the slates underneath like a light drizzle. “I’m saving up for University!”

//

So she wants to be a scholar as well? Wow…

//

“I enjoy seeing people happy, I enjoy giving them the food that their mouths are watering eagerly for. Best of all is seeing the kids scoff down before falling asleep almost instantly with content smiles lighting their faces up.”

“Sounds nice.”

Toriel nods as she drinks. “It is. That’s why I want to become a teacher. Before I can teach I have to be taught first though, which is why I’m saving up for University.”

“Do you have a subject you’re most interested in?” Are asks as he takes the glass handed to him.

Toriel feels her cheeks blush. She hasn’t told anyone before, she’s always waved that question away. Must be this damn wine! She feels like she want to share it though. She snags the glass back first and takes a heavy glug before handing it back to a stunned Are who almost drops it. “Snails,” Toriel admits before a deep hiccup surprises her.

//

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

Asgore lets out the tiniest of snorts.

This damn wine!

//

“Snails are…interesting,” Are says quickly after his snort.

“Then why did you pause?” Toriel shoots back viciously. 

“I didn’t think of you as a…”

“Again with the pausing.”

“As someone that would be interested in snails,” Are finally finishes after another uncomfortable chuckle. 

Toriel challenges that notion with a playful raised eyebrow. “And what would I be interested in?”

//

“H-hey!” Asgore motions over to the lamp post just behind where Toriel is sitting. “Y-you don’t want to catch a cold like I did, right? It’s getting a bit dark as well. How about I,” he snaps his finger, igniting the lamp with a fire that’s the same as the hearth in the tavern.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with-” Toriel freezes, and her face drains of both color and luster.

Phew! That might’ve done the trick.

//

“Are?” Toriel asks, the glass in her hand slowly gliding out of her hand.

That fire.

“Yes?” he answers, leaning over to catch the glass should it fall.

“No,” Toriel says without looking at him. In the corner of her eye she still sees him hesitate. “You’re not Are.”

“W-what?”

Toriel slowly turns her hand towards the now ignited lamp. The orange sheen reflects in the glass and wine, creating a mix of colors that shimmer onto Toriel’s dress. “That magic, it’s the same one from the parade.”

Toriel snaps her head around. “You’re the...”

The glass shatters against the roof tiles.

“You’re the Prince.”


	9. Afterglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra birthday chapter!

“Sooo?”

Fuck! Not now!

Jyuona saunters up and snags a stool right in front of Toriel. “How was your date yesterday?”

“Horrible. Never gonna see him again. Never want to see him again.” Toriel slaps the wet towel in her hand over her shoulder as she finishes cleaning the last tankard. “Never want to talk about it.”

Jyuona isn’t convinced, because of course she isn’t. “Sounds to me like it went a bit too well for the two of you.”

“No!”

The few patrons at this hour crane their neck to Toriel leaning over the bar with both her hands slammed down on it. Her muzzle is taught into a snarl while her eyes pierce through Jyuona like a pair of burning spears. She’s cowering away from Toriel, almost falling off her bar stool in the process.

“I. Do. Not. Want. To. Talk. About. It!” Toriel pushes away from the bar, and with a quick, but firm, glance across the tavern, the patrons return to their meals, almost as if forced.

“T-Toriel?” Jyuona sits back up, clearly afraid, but not for herself. “D-did something...” She leans forward so that she can whisper. “D-did something happen? D-did he do something to you?”

Toriel’s never seen Jyuona this terrified, and even seldom about Toriel. Did Toriel go a bit too far. No, but to understand why Jyuona needs context, and that’s not something Toriel has the luxury of giving her. Not in a million years, not even to her best friend. She sighs tiredly as she rubs her face hard with both her palms. “No...” She inhales carefully. “Nothing happened, Jyuona. I’m fine, I promise. It’s just that...He lied to me, that’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Did he promise you something?”

“No, he just lied, that’s all. A pretty big lie.”

Jyuona thinks for a bit. “Was he a she?”

“No, Jyuona!” Toriel throws her baffled arms up high, almost knocking down the tankards hanging to dry. “That’s stupid! Of course he was a he!”

“Sorry.” Jyuona squirms uncomfortably in her stool. “It’s just…well, I don’t know what else to guess!”

Toriel can see a pair of tears form in Jyuona’s eyes. “Oh...Jyuona.”

She snaps her head down. “I thought...”

Toriel hurries around the corner to embrace Jyuona.

“I thought something had happened to you!” Jyuona cries out as she pulls Toriel closer. “I was the one that pushed you to go out with him. If he had done something...”

“He didn’t, Jyuona. It’s not your fault, I promise.”

“With you lashing out like that...” Jyuona chokes on her words, only producing short gasps. “I thought...”

“He didn’t. I’m fine. As if he could hurt me.”

Jyuona’s scoff knocks some tears onto Toriel’s dress. She’ll just pull her apron over the stains, no need to worry about those.

“You’re right.” Jyuona takes some calming breaths through her nose. “You’re right, Toriel. It’s just...”

“I shouldn’t have screamed at you like that.” Toriel hands Jyuona the towel on her shoulder so that she can clean herself up. “It’s the lie he told, that’s all. Nothing to do with you.”

“You sure? Promise?”

“I’m sure, and I promise.”

“Alright.” Jyuona blows her nose with the towel. Not really what Toriel expected her to do, but that’s fine. She’ll just grab a fresh one later. “I trust you, Toriel.”

“Of course you do, Jyuona. Not like you can trust yourself.”

The two friends share a friendly laugh. It’s an immense relief to them both. They spend a couple of seconds with their eyes just meeting each others. Just to feel safe about what they’ve just said. Jyuona eventually turns her head around to the door. “I have to get going to work now.”

Toriel nods. “You do that, Jyuona. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jyuona leaves the tavern with a friendly wave. Toriel can tell that she is still a bit shaken though. To be fair, so is Toriel.

She still can’t think of something else. It’s been screaming at her ever since she scrambled down the roof and ran home.

He was the Prince.

//

“Your aura is clouded, my Prince.”

As if saying that would help!

“Even more so now.”

**Gah!**

“What is it that clouds you, my Prince?”

Asgore breaks away from his meditative position, uncrossing his legs with an annoyed sigh. Guess he was wrong in that he would be able to just think it away. He sighs again, extinguishing the candles in front of him, and knocking off the hood of the priest accompanying him. The priestess is understanding though, and tucks her ears back inside her hood before pulling it back up again over her scaly head. She extends her talon carefully.

“Would you like me to link my soul?”

Asgore shakes his head. “No.”

The priestess retract her hand. “As you wish, my Prince. I do advise you to, it would help me help you if you shared with me your troubles. I am under oath to never speak of your troubles outside this room, as always. Is it more troublesome to you than the first time Gerson shaved your beard?”

Asgore’s seething look could torch even the wettest of ice into a roaring fire, and the priestess bows her head deep. “I understand, I shall speak of it no further.”

Asgore nods without mouthing a thanks. He crosses his legs again, painfully so. Despite the flexibility he’s built up during the years he’s everything but built for this sorta position. He’s learned to focus past that though, but it’s but the length of a seed of wheat compared to the vast field that he has to focus past.

God dammit, how could he have slipped up this badly?

“Would you like some incense, my Prince?” the priest offers gently. “If anything to be alone for a while as I fetch it?”

Asgore’s not in the mood to call the priestess out on that, but she’s got a point. He nods. “Rose and mahogany, please.”

“As you wish.” The priestess stands up before bowing, and then gently walks out of the room. Her robe don’t move at all as she walks, in stark contrast to the amount of times Asgore almost tripped over as his knees tangled up in the fabric. She doesn’t seem to be wise to Asgore having worn it yesterevening, and for that Asgore is grateful.

He’s got enough on his mind as is without having to explain that he’s been using her robes. She did raise an eyebrow to it being a bit more looser than she’s used to it being, but she’s probably chalked that up to it being badly washed, or something.

She wouldn’t be wrong, Asgore probably did wash it pretty badly earlier.

He’d wish she’d stop calling him prince for the moment being. Asgore knows she’s being courteous, on top of following her duties, but it’s done nothing but worsen Asgore with every mention that she’s done. He sees her lips move, but it’s not the priestess voice that he hears speak the word.

It’s Toriel’s.

The venom, and disgust, her tongue spouted as she realized, it’s not something Asgore could ever prepare for. He’s never felt as soar as after that, even if Gerson were to combine all of his training into one grueling session he wouldn’t even had come close to the punch in the gut Toriel gave Asgore.

Why does she hate him so?

What has he done to deserve that?

Well...he did lie about who he was…

That’s true, but what could he had done? Told her that he was the prince from the get go? No, that would’ve been worse!

Argh! If she’d just not run away Asgore could explain! He’d planned to confess to her later when he saw it fit to do so. She could’ve listened to him, she could’ve heard him out. He risked so much going out to see her, if she’d only-

“Your aura is filled with anger, Asgore.”

He sighs deeply, putting his hand up to his forehead that he rubs tiredly. “Gerson...”

“You mind if I join you?” Gerson sits down before Asgore can answer. “It’s quite seldom that you call for this arrangement when you meditate.” He crosses his legs and rests his arms with his palms facing up on his legs. “Share with me.”

“You’re the one wanting me to be more independent, Gerson,” Asgore returns with curled lips. “Leave me alone to ponder.”

Gerson peeks one eye slightly open. “It’s obviously not working, which is why I am here, Asgore.” He closes it again and shuffles his legs a bit to be slightly more comfortable. “Pretty sure even the humans to the west can feel your aura. That’s not what we need from a future king. Focus your emotions, Asgore. Share with me if you feel they’re too much.”

Asgore cocks his head to the side while huffing.

“None of that, boy. This is for your own good, and you know that by now. Your emotions are getting the better of you.” Gerson shoots over an intense look. “Focus! If you want to be angry we can do some more sparring for you to work some of that off of you.”

The gust created by Asgore standing up as quickly as he can sweeps across the intimate room, plunging it into total darkness.

Through it he hears Gerson’s clothes shuffle as he stands up as well. The familiar sparking sound of his magic echoes loudly, and the room is instantly drowned in a sharp blue light as a hammer forms in his hand. The deep shadows on his face move like thick tar as he utters stoically, “After you, prince.”

//

“You’ve had a shadow pushing in that beautiful face of yours all day, Toriel. Is it something you want to talk about?”

The makeshift chair from an upside down bucket creaks as Toriel heaves a heavy sigh. She reignites the fire it put out in the stove with a quick snap of her fingers.

“Jyuona sounded quite distraught earlier. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her act like that before.”

Toriel shakes her head silently. “No, she hasn’t. First time I’ve seen her act such as well.”

Another chair is made from a smaller upside bucket next to Toriel. “What happened last night, Toriel?”

She doesn’t move her eyes from the stove. “He lied to me.” She’s still handed a freshly peeled potato that she puts into the simmering water.

“Lied, how?”

“About who he was.”

“In what way?”

Toriel hesitates with putting in the second potato into the water. It’s the prince of potatoes again in her hand. “In the way that made me not want to see him again.” She flicks potato prince into the boiling water where he belongs.

She can even imagine the bubbling sound he’d make. That doesn’t bring her lips into a smile though, quite the contrary, since it means that she’s still thinking about him.

“Are you absolutely sure that you’re fine, Toriel?”

She nods. “Yes, I am. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel fine.”

“You wouldn’t have screamed at Jyuona if you did feel fine, Toriel.” A small hand is gently put on Toriel’s shoulder. “So I’m gonna ask you again, Toriel. How do you feel?”

Toriel’s eyes start watering as she meets her boss’ concerned expression. “I...” She looks down, tugging her dress hard in her hands. “I don’t know how I feel. I’m angry, but when I think back on it I feel happy. I...I enjoyed talking to him, but all he told me was lies, yet I can’t think of what he said as lies. It all sounded, and felt, like it was coming straight from his soul, like he felt the same as I do.” Toriel snaps her head back up. She draws a deep sob through her clenched teeth. “Was that a lie too?”

Her head sinks back down as she quietly cries. She’s so confused! She’s angry, sad, happy, fearful, everything! Her aura must feel like a damn mess to her boss. It’s a miracle that he’s not vomiting out of sheer confusion from it as well.

Instead, he puts his other hand on Toriel’s shoulder, and gently embraces her arm. She leans into him with her muzzle. “There, there, Toriel,” he comforts her gently. “Believe it or not, I’ve felt the same before. It’s a part of life. Sometimes your plans don’t go as you intend them to. Sometimes you stumble where you want to jump with joy. Your face slam into the cold ground instead of sampling the warm summer’s breeze that you yearned for. It’s what happens.”

Toriel’s only reply is another quelled sob.

“However.” Her boss tries to tilt her muzzle up, but it’s too heavy for him. Toriel does it herself. “That’s only a small part of life, Toriel. There are times where you put your arms out against the jagged rock you think yourself falling into, only to be grabbed and pulled up by someone you never thought you’d meet. A certain young Boss Monster lady with a soul of gold, horns of crystal, eyes of-”

Toriel scoffs a chuckle. “Yes, yes. Stop it.”

“You’ll get through this, Toriel,” her boss promises with a hand against his chest. “But you need some time for it. Be alone here with your thoughts for the rest of the day, alright? I know you want to pretend like this is nothing to you, but you don’t scream at your best friend for nothing though. Even if it’s someone like Jyuona, you just don’t lash out with borderline hatred as you did. If you lie about your feelings you’re no better than that Are, or whatever his real name is.”

Toriel’s shame burns hotter than the fire inside the stove. It’s just…

No, it’s not just. She shouldn’t have done that to Jyuona, and to her boss. She has to calm down, she has to accept that she did a blunder. She gambled, and lost. She can’t take that out on her friends. If they really are her friends then she’ll do good in not lying about herself to them, or herself.

“I feel a bit better now.” Toriel dries her eyes off. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, child.” Toriel’s boss leaves her after a reassuring pat on her back. Halfway up the stairs he stops and turns around. “Was it you or Jyuona that blew their nose into the towel, by the way?”

“Jyuona, why do you wonder?”

“She might be getting a cold, at least if what she blew into the towel is anything to go by.”

Toriel joins with her boss’ chuckle. “I might set aside some soup for her then.”

“You do that, but I didn’t hear that, nor did the books. When-”

Toriel chuckles.

“T-Toriel?”

Why is he worried all of a sudden? “Yes?” she answers reservedly.

“D-did you send for the Royal Guard?”

//

Asgore dries off his mouth with a sharp drag of his arm. He spits out the dust that managed to find itself between his teeth, and takes up his staff again. His grip hardens to the point that the wood starts to creak, and he spins back around to face Gerson again.

“You’re using your anger wrong, Asgore,” Gerson scolds with some anger of himself as he flicks his wrist. The hammer in his hand sizzles away as he walks to the weapon’s rack besides the training ring. He picks up a staff, and saunters back with his head low, shaking in disappointment. “You had your chance at the hammers, and you squandered it. Back to staffs with you until you show me you’re worthy of them.”

Asgore lunges at Gerson again, but Gerson just as easily blocks and steps aside from the attack as he just did.

“Focus, Asgore! You’re letting your anger manifest outside of you instead of inside you!”

Asgore sweeps his staff against Gerson’s legs, but it only hits the end of his staff planted down at an angle. Asgore feels his staff bend, and as he tries to push through Gerson’s defense, it shatters in the middle. Asgore falls down again, with only half a staff inside his hand. His free hand balls into a fist, taking with it a handful of dust from the ground.

“Asgore! Your anger runs through your aura like a tantrum! You might be an adult in terms of years lived, but you’ll never be an adult if you can’t control your emotions and use them to your advantage!” Gerson shoves his staff underneath Asgore’s stomach and flips him over on his back. He puts the staff and his foot down on Asgore’s breastplate. “Why are you like this? Haven’t I taught you anything? Has it just gone through one ear and out the other?”

Gerson swipes his staff towards Asgore’s ear, but he catches the staff in the last second.

“So you have heard what I said, boy!”

Asgore rolls into the staff, bending it out of Gerson’s grasp as he stumbles off Asgore. Asgore then spins around while on his knees and throws a strike behind him. Gerson kicks it back, forcing Asgore to drop it. The staff bounces away, creating small clouds of dust before finally rolling to a halt.

Before Asgore can stand up again Gerson pushes him down by the collar. Fury burns behind those eyes that were always calm, staring directly into Asgore’s soul through his eyes. “You’re so goddamn close now! We’re staying here until you’re done! No food, no water, no nothing.” Gerson wrings Asgore’s collar closer to him. “And no sneaking out to see her!”

He…

Asgore’s breathing deepens.

“I know about her, Asgore. How could you ever believe that it could slip by me? She’s gone now.”

She’s…

“I’ve disposed of her, erased her out of your life, Asgore! I did it. I gave the order! You’ll never see her again, I’ve made sure of it. If it wasn’t for her you would’ve managed this long before! She was nothing good for you. She only held you back!”

He didn’t!

“Take hold of your anger, boy! Use it! Mold it! If you believe that I’ve wronged you, punish me! Punish me with a vengeance fit for a king! Show me that I haven’t sacrificed my life training you for nothing!”

He...he’s gone too far! Too far this time! Gerson can do all he wants against Asgore! What’s he’s done now, it’s too far! She didn’t deserve it!

Toriel!

Asgore’s entire being focuses into his chest, into his soul, as he shoves Gerson off with all his strength. Asgore falls over on his hands and knees. His hand balls into a fist, and he throws it down into the hard ground. The impact surges through his body, into his soul again. It swells as if on the brink of bursting. It overwhelms Asgore, pushing out everywhere it can. He strikes the ground again, and the surge reverses, rushing back into his hand.

“Focus!”

Asgore’s arm tenses as if struck by lightning. Through it he feels his anger flow like a roaring spring river, manifesting inside his hand. A red glow like the bloodiest of roses beings to pulsate, twist, and turn as it shapes itself.

Gerson tugs a smile, it forming quickly on his lips. He wipes his brow, and clears his throat. “That’s it, Asgore.”

The dirt cracks as Asgore heaves himself up while taking support on his manifested anger. It’s buried deep, forming three distinctive holes that widen as his weight pushes them down further.

“You’re finally an adult.”

With a confident tug, Asgore pulls with him his newfound weapon summoned from himself. He rests it inside the palms of both his hands. It fits perfectly. Light, sturdy, a master craft summoned from the depths of his soul, made manifest through his anger.

A blazing red trident, glowing and crackling violently.

Gerson nods. “It’ll serve you good throughout your years, Asgore. I’m proud of you.” His warm smile shifts into a focus scowl as he forms a blue two handed hammer between his hands. “Now, show me that it’s not just a tantrum.”

“You killed her.”

Gerson’s posture relaxes. “Sorry?”

“You killed her!” Asgore throws his arm out, sending a fierce pulse that expands his trident.

“I haven’t killed anyone, Asgore. Why would I want to kill a Royal Guard?”

“You...”

“I just sent her to another position closer to her home. It’s best for her, and you.”

Asgore blinks in confusion. “Who? Guard?”

“The one that had an interest in you, and which apparently you had as well. The one that used to guard over there.” Gerson points to an empty spot behind and to the left of Asgore. “The dog with the dot over her eye.”

Asgore continues blinking. “Who?”

Gerson silently waves a hammer in Asgore’s direction. “You don’t know her? You didn’t have feelings for her?”

Asgore looks behind him and to the left. “No?”

“Then-” Gerson own terrified gasp interrupts his sentence. “No!” He puts the palms of his hands pressing hard up on his forehead. “Your focus, Asgore!”

An arcane and slightly sizzling thud steals Asgore’s ears, and he looks down on his hand. What’s left in it is a small broken piece of red magic, fading with each second. His trident lays on the ground in two large pieces, petering out with an embarrassing sigh.

An even deeper sigh comes from Gerson. He drags his hands slowly down his face. “It’s fine,” he tells himself after another heaved exhale. “It’s fine, you’ve created it which is the difficult part. We’ll get to work on you maintaining it later. I can see on you that it’s taken a toll on your head. You can go back to meditating after you’ve cleaned yourself off, Asgore.”

Asgore flinches as a hand is placed on his shoulder. He’s so baffled he didn’t even see Gerson walk up to him. “Good job, Asgore.”

Good...job?

“Yes, yes. Wipe that stunned expression off while you’re at it with your cleaning. Wahahahaha!” Gerson gives Asgore a proud tug on his shoulder. “Now we can finally get to the interesting techniques.”

“Y...yeah, sure.”

Gerson helps Asgore start his walk by gently coaxing him with his hand on his back. “Took a lot out of you, didn’t it? Wahaha! It did so myself when I managed to finally summon my hammers. Don’t you worry about it though, you should be back to normal after a nice bath and some meditation. I’ll send your food up while you meditate. Sounds good?”

“Y...yes.”

Gerson’s laugh goes through Asgore’s ear and out the other. He barely even registered what Gerson said before, it’s only because of the volume of his laugh that Asgore is registering it as something.

The rest of his mind is filled with relief. Filled more than it should ever be.

Toriel is safe, and more importantly, Gerson doesn’t know about her.

Asgore tugs a smile.

“Yes.”


	10. Reignition

“Thank you for the recipe, Toriel. I might be going closer to home, but it’s gonna be like I’m going away from it, if you know what I mean. Your soup is gonna do wonders.”

Yes, yes. “Remember to simmer instead of boiling when it starts to thicken. It brings out the flavors a bit better, I’ve found.”

The Royal Guard bows, revealing her tail waggling like a flag in a hurricane. “I will, take care.”

“You too, good luck with your new placement.”

The Royal Guard bows again before exiting the tavern.

“She really didn’t have to enter the way she did,” Toriel whispers harshly to herself while shaking her head and placing upright the chairs the guard knocked over in her desperate haste to talk with Toriel. “Greedy with power.”

The tavern returns to its more homey murmuring now that the barging Royal Guard has left. Toriel meets a patron who taps his skull with a talon. Toriel shrugs back at him, and he does as well while looking out the door the guard just left through with eyes that could pierce armor.

“We’re still allowed to operate?” Toriel’s boss asks as she switches place with him in the kitchen.

“Yes, she just wanted to know the Seven Sowls recipe. Apparently she’s is being moved from the castle here to one half the country away, and she wanted something to remember this city.”

Toriel takes the potato peeler handed over to her which she places on the counter next to her. “Did she really have to burst in like that and demand your presence?” Toriel’s boss wonders with his ears flopped down and his eyebrows raised.

“No, don’t think so in the slightest.”

“Strange.”

“You tell me.”

//

“I don’t believe such magic exists, my prince. Not even the humans know of such, I believe. What were you planning on shrinking?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t have anything planned,” Asgore lies as earnestly as he can. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

The priestess nods. “I heard that you managed to manifest your magic earlier today. My congratulations. It’ll serve you well during your reign. If you wish we can shift your studies to enhancing your bond with it. Learning to wield it mentally as well as physically. I trust Gerson will be eager to handle the latter part.”

Asgore flexes his hands. He’s feeling soar all over, almost flu like. He’s feeling pretty drained as well. He’s been tensing his magic as well as his limbs, so it’s not a complete surprise to him that he’s feeling a bit under the weather now.

His back is in a bit of a hurt as well after Gerson’s, arguable, motivation, or whatever Asgore will decide to call it when it’s but a memory to him. Putting what he did on Asgore’s back only to rip it straight off is...not really something Asgore should go through more times than one.

As if Gerson would agree.

Still, at least Asgore sneaking out to meet Toriel is still safe with him. Asgore is gonna have to be a bit more careful next time he does it, even if Gerson believes he’s solved the problem. He’s aware, so Asgore is gonna have to be extra sneaky.

Perhaps he should wander the castle a bit to find another way instead of descending down his tower. If he’s gonna go through with what he plans to he should probably find another way. He almost slipped when it was just himself descending, and next time he’s bringing with him at least a couple of barrels.

Too bad there’s no shrinking spell, but if there were, it would probably sour the wine.

The priestess leans carefully into Asgore’s view. “My prince?”

Asgore blinks to bring himself back out from his mind. “Huh? Oh, yes, nothing more. You’re free to go.”

The priestess nods gently. “As you wish. I will make some changes to your meditation schedule to help you bond more with your weapon.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

The priestess bows deeply before closing the door behind her, leaving just a crack…

That’s it!

“Wait, before you leave!”

The priestess opens the door ajar and pokes her head and long bunny ears inside again. “Yes, my prince?”

“How are the reparations on the south wall going? Is it sealed yet?”

The priestess has to think for a bit before she remembers. As she tilts her head up again her ears smack against the top of the door frame with a soft thud before bending underneath it. “You’re talking about the damage done when you practiced your fireball that you meant to show during the parade? The one that blew out the castle wall?”

She didn’t have to go into that much detail…

“If so, no, it hasn’t been sealed completely. An illusion has been put up to hide the damage, and only a select trusted few know about the damage. Magic to detect anyone entering through it has also been placed as a safety measurement. If someone enters it we will know, I assure you that.”

Asgore nods in acknowledgment. Actually, come to think of it, he would like a bit more detail about the hole. Could it fit a Boss Monster carrying a couple of wine barrels under his arms, perchance?

“I’d like a report of the damages as soon as possible.”

The priestess bows, slipping her ears back inside the room. “I will arrange it for you at your supper.”

“Thanks, you are free to go, again.”

The priestess chuckles, but Asgore knows it’s from obligation.

Now, how to get a hold of the barrels?

//

“Good working today, Toriel. See you tomorrow!”

Toriel gives a friendly wave to her boss before closing the door behind her. She carefully nestles the packaged sandwich into her bag so that the paper around it doesn’t unwrap, and then heads off towards home.

It’s a cloudless night today. Just like yesterday…

Toriel’s lips pout into a frown as she lowers her head. Just look straight forward. Furrow your brow so that it covers the night sky as well. Yes, you look silly doing that, but not as silly as you were yesterday with…

Stop! Get out! Out of Toriel’s head!

He’s gone, long gone. Up in his castle where he belongs! Far away from Toriel, that’s all that matters.

“Just as starry as it was yesterday, don’t you agree?”

…

“I’ve left the lamppost here unlit for now, but if you want it lit I can do that.”

Toriel can do nothing but blink while staring into the horizon.

“Sorry, that sounded better in my head. I’ll ignite it since I can barely see. I almost stumbled over the curb before.”

Toriel draws a short gasp as she feels the Prince’s magic again.

How? Why? How again?

The sound of scratching of a full beard rings through the night. “I’m guessing you didn’t think you’d see me again. To be honest, neither did I. I’ve been waiting here for a couple of hours now. Didn’t know your work hours differed this much. That’s on me though.”

Why…

“I heard a couple of guards whisper something about a supposed break in where we were yesterday. They don’t have any leads though, and nothing was found missing, so I think we’re in the clear about that. If I find them finding something I will direct their attention elsewhere. Can’t have it leak out that the prince have been climbing random store buildings to drink wine on said store’s roof, now can it?”

The uncomfortable chuckle bounces a few too many times around the empty street.

“Why are you here?” Toriel asks without turning her head. Her grip on the strap of her bag tightens as she wrings it. “Why did you come here?”

Asgore sighs. “I...I enjoyed myself last night.” He scratches his beard again, judging by the sound of it. “And I think you did too. It was the vibe I got until...well.” A brief and silent pause flushes around Toriel like a stiff breeze. “I’d like to do it again, that’s all I want to say.”

…

“For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry for lying to you. It’s just…I couldn’t come out from the beginning to tell you who I was. I was planning on telling you, I promise, but you found out yourself.”

Toriel nods, still with her eyes locked on the horizon. “That I did…prince.”

//

Poison. Pure poison. Dripping from her tongue.

//

“Again, I beg for your forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” Toriel’s cheek pulls involuntarily into a smile. “The prince begging a commoner for forgiveness?”

“Why is that amusing to you?” There’s sincere curiosity in his voice, and not the amused sort. It sounds...hurt, like he doesn’t understand. Genuinely doesn’t understand. He has to though, he just has too. He’s the Prince! Title and everything! He lives in the castle! How can he not know how wrong him begging Toriel for forgiveness sounds? Is he that blind to it? He can’t be that stupid!

No, he can’t. So...maybe…

No! He’s lying! Again! Lying again to get her sympathy. Disgusting!

She’s had enough of this! She’ll just leave and…and…

Toriel shakes her head and clears her throat.

She’ll leave...and...and…

Dammit!

“You don’t know?” she asks, cursing herself in the meantime for asking. Why is she giving him the benefit of doubt? He’s just gonna lie again! Go! Get out of there!

But she doesn’t move.

“No, I honestly don’t.”

See! Big fat lie! How can he not know?

“Is it because I’m the Prince?” Asgore asks, almost as if Toriel’s accused him of murder. “Just because of that?”

Yes! It’s...because… Of course it is! Of course it is…

“Yes...” Toriel nods, but it’s reserved. It’s almost as if- ”It’s because you’re the Prince...”

“I see.”

He sounds...sad, hurt.

//

So that’s how it is…

//

“I...” Toriel can’t find the words. Too many are flooding her mind, but she can’t pick any to say. “I just...” Her hands clutch her strap even harder. “Yeah,” she averts her head further away from the Prince, “it’s because you’re the Prince.”

A silent beat passes, deafening in its silence. Toriel feels its entire weight pushing down on her.

“So just because I’m the Prince?” Asgore repeats through a whisper. “My title is the reason?”

Toriel nods, again with her eyes locked forward. Her head is starting to spin, and she tries to steel herself. Because of that she can only muster a nod even though she wants to say so much. What she actually wants to say is what’s spinning her head though, clamping her mouth shut.

“Not because of who I am, but because of who I am?”

Again Toriel nods, but it’s weaker. She barely feels herself nodding, it’s so faint.

“Do you now know why I didn’t say that I was the Prince, Toriel? I lied, but this is what the truth would’ve gotten me had I come out with it directly. At least I got to spend a few moments with you, which was all I really wanted. I understand if that sounds egoistic, because it probably is. In any case, I enjoyed my time with you, Toriel, and I brought you these as thanks. I’m not saying I want you to remember me with these, nor do I feel that I have to reimburse you. This is not payment for your time, but I do want you to have these as a reminder of the one we spent together. We both enjoyed it, and if it becomes a happy memory to you as well, then I will be content with it.”

Two large barrels are placed in front of Toriel. She feels her soul and throat tighten as she glances the sigil on them.

“These are from my family’s personal reserves. I took it that you enjoyed what I brought with me last night. You also mentioned the embargo.”

A note sealed with the Royal Stamp is also placed on one of the barrels.

“With this you’ll be able to place more orders should you want. I’ve argued in the favor of your tavern being a Royal Supplier, so therefor it should have access. It won’t be traced back to you and me meeting, so please don’t lose sleep over that as well. You won’t be able to order the family reserves, since they’re only for the family and all that, but I hope that these two will serve you well enough.”

Asgore’s shadow disappears behind Toriel.

“Farewell, and good luck in your future, Toriel.”

His footsteps turn fainter and fainter with each eternal second that passes. Toriel’s breathing quickens, and she’s forced to cover her mouth with her hand to stop it from echoing loudly around her, and possibly to him. Her vision starts blurring as a pair of tears form in her eyes.

She dries them off with her finger. One of them hangs for a moment on the tip before falling off.

Why…

He’s the Prince! He’s...he’s everything Toriel’s been…

Her throat tightens further, and she has trouble swallowing.

Why is he…

A faint choke escapes her lips.

No, not a choke.

A sob.

A pained one. It echoes, not throughout the buildings around her, but inside her. Inside, her very soul is shaken by the sob. She wants to...but she can’t! She can’t do that! It’s unfair! It’s…

It’s even more unfair if she doesn’t.

“Sorry.”

But no one came.

Her quiet whisper peters out, not even strong enough to move the note on the barrel right below her.

It’s too late.

“Forgive me.”

Toriel’s back straightens out, almost as if someone came and dragged her up like a marionette. Her head turns around quickly, leaving her ears dangling shortly after, smacking her on her cheeks.

Asgore takes a step back with his palms facing Toriel. “I-” He interrupts himself with a chuckle born out of Toriel startling him with her sudden twist of her neck. “I only now realized that you might not be able to lift these two barrels by yourself.” His palms starts waving in acute panic. “N-not that I think of you as weak,” he quickly adds with a sheepish smile. “I had trouble carrying them myself, and...”

He trails off as he feels the corner he’s backed himself into poking him viciously.

Toriel’s hand seeks her mouth again, but now to try and hide her giggle. It fails in its task.

“I’ll bring them to the tavern.” Asgore hands Toriel the note which she takes with one hand. He curves one arm around one barrel, and his other around the other. He bends his knees, and lifts up himself and the barrels. “Anywhere specific you want them?”

That’s...impressive. He’s really strong.

The letter crumbles a bit as Toriel wrings her hand.

“Behind the tavern, if you could. There is a-”

A flash of lightning surges through Toriel’s mind.

“I’ll come with you and open the door.”

What! Where did that come from? Why did she-

//

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

“After you.”

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

//

Toriel stands still, not moving a single muscle.

//

Asgore’s smile fades into a concerned expression. He looks around him, partly to make sure that the two of them are alone, and partly to catch Toriel’s attention by moving around in her vision.

//

Why did she say that? Why did she offer to spend more time with him?

Another flash surges through her mind, this one acting like an open palm slap on the back of her head.

“Oh...”

So that’s how it is.

Toriel meets Asgore’s eyes.

So that’s how it is…

“Yes.” Toriel straightens her back up. Asgore flinches again from her jerky movement, but he keeps the barrels under control. Just need to adjust his grip on them a bit. Toriel beckons for Asgore to follow her. “This way.”

//

Don’t smile like a fool. Don’t smile like a fool. Don’t smile like a fool. Don’t smile like a fool. Don’t smile like a fool. Don’t smile like a fool.

//

He kinda smiles like an idiot, at least what Toriel can see through his beard.

Now, how to formulate this question without him instantly dropping the barrels and walking away. Despite him practically being in her palm right now she’s pretty sure if she were to drop the question right out he’d drop himself right out.

Although...maybe that’s not the worst scenario. It would give her an answer, at least. Maybe not the one she’d want, but less than half an hour ago she didn’t even want to see him again, so it wouldn’t be derailing the way her night is going too much.

Perhaps it will be the one she’ll want after she’s asked him. Her state of emotion is not something she has a grasp on now, what with her hand being occupied by the Prince being inside it and all that.

//

Maybe Asgore should’ve used the wagon after all. These barrels are starting to get a bit slippery from his hands getting all sweaty. Dropping them now could have them break open, and that would-

“If I told you I couldn’t look past you being the Prince, and because of that I feel a resentment towards you, how would you respond?”

Barely a finger on each barrel is preventing the barrels from slipping out of Asgore’s grip as he freezes in his step. His eyes lock on the horizon, unblinking. His mouth contorts into a myriad of different shapes, but all that escapes it is a low stunned hum.

//

At least he didn’t drop the wine barrels. A good sign, if any.

Toriel wrings the sides of her dress in her hands as she impatiently waits for Asgore to perhaps give her an answer to her question. Her mouth feels weird from asking that. It sounded so weird, so forced, contrived, but had she formed it any other way the point would’ve just gotten tangled up, and she’d just be forced to ask it that way regardless.

But what’s even stranger is that she feels some relief from asking it, and some anxious expectation on top of that. Very anxious, her dress has more folds than her forehead that’s lowered so much that it almost tickles her feet.

Why?

Because he’s right.

She’d also like to do it again.

//

“Y-you kinda already said it?” Asgore blinks. “Although, you asking it like this, phrasing it like this, it sounds a bit...I don’t know, a bit more sincere?” Yet his mouth continues with its confused tugging. “I don’t really have an answer for that, I’m just thinking out loud at this point.”

His head tilts to the side. “M-maybe if I say that I’m not the Prince, then will that help?”

“Don’t know if that will help, I’m afraid,” Toriel laments through a sigh. “I guess...I don’t know what I guess.”

“Neither do I.” Asgore chin tilts down as this question has made his head really heavy all of a sudden. “M-maybe I’ll figure something out once we get closer to the tavern?”

“Y-you’re not gonna run off?”

He made a promise. “I made a promise, didn’t I. Gotta deliver these- Golly!”

//

Toriel manages to get her hand underneath the barrel slipping out of Asgore’s hand. It’s heavy, but she can help enough for him to get a grip on it again. She helps Asgore’s hand wrap around the barrel as much as possible.

Still holding his promise after Toriel’s confessed like that? Is he really serious? He thinks himself so pure?

//

She touched Asgore’s hand...

She-

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

//

And now he doesn’t say a word. Is it because he’s too busy thinking right now? Maybe it’s best just to leave him to his thoughts. Toriel feels like she owes him that much.

And that is the biggest surprise she’s done to herself in her entire life.

//

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

//

At least she has the stars to accompany her for now.

//

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

“We’re here.”

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-_

What?

Asgore blinks as he suddenly finds himself at the tavern again. How long...For how long have the two of them walked? He...What? How did he zone out like that?

From the corner of his eyes he sees a soft muzzle peek into his vision. It’s followed by a pair of beautiful eyes that shine more clearly than the cloudless sea of stars above him. A gently smile drags the supple lips back, bringing more warmth to Asgore than every single fire magic he’s done in his life combined.

Oh yeah, that’s why.

Toriel motions for Asgore to head into the alley behind the tavern. He follows, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but Toriel doesn’t seem to notice. Her head hangs a bit low, almost as if she’s preparing to be chastised.

Wait…Her question! Asgore said he would think about it. He hasn’t done any thinking at all! Oh no!

//

Here it comes…

//

Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!

What should he do?

Well, for starters, he should set down the barrels, which he does. He rolls his shoulders, bringing some life back into them, life that immediately tells of how much they’re hurting.

“I...” Asgore trails off before he has time to even begin.

Think! Think!

//

Here it comes?

//

Maybe...Maybe if…

“How...” Asgore taps a claw on one of the barrels. “How about we perhaps discuss it when we’ve had some more time to think? Perhaps tomorrow, after you’re done with work? At the place that was busy last time, with some more Royal Purple?”

//

That’s…

//

She nodded!

//

...Not a bad idea, actually.

However!

“My shift ends the same time it did today, so I don’t know if there will be a bigger chance for that place to be empty, to be honest.”

“I’ll make sure of it!” comes an almost immediate response.

//

That came out way too much as a threat. The hell is Asgore doing!

“I mean, I’ll be there,” he backtracks with an awkward laugh. “And hopefully I’ll see you there too come tomorrow?”

//

“I’ll...I’ll be there too. Until then...Asgore.”

And just like that, the weight on Toriel’s shoulders disappears. She feels her back stretch out, as well as her smile.

“Until then, Asgore,” she repeats with giddy. She brushes his arm as she passes him by.

//

She touched-

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!_


	11. Where there is smoke

“Your aura has calmed down since yesterday, my prince.”

How early should Asgore arrive for him to secure what he promised Toriel he would?

“However, it still feels contemplative, burdened. It’s a different kind of burden from yesterday.”

One hour? Two hours? Three? Five? Is it already too late? How early can he even leave? Would that be enough? He sure hope so. After all, he made a promise.

“There is a hint of something else completely, my prince.”

Will she wear that dress again? It suited her so well. The way it followed her form, complimented the color of her eyes, how it-

“Something impure.”

Impu-

“Hm?” Asgore tilts his head up from his contemplative state. “Forgive me. I was lost in thought.”

The priestess smiles ever so patiently. “It’s fading now.” 

Asgore can’t help but detect a hint of disappointment in her words. Whatever it was, it was summoned from him letting his mind run away while in company. He should try and focus more carefully from now on. There’s no doubt Toriel is gonna be more prominent in his aura from now on. Not that he has a problem with it, but the ones in the castle might. Subdue for now, keep her under control.

Do it for her.

He will, for her.

“Pride, my prince? Is it because of your newfound magic?” the priestess decides to pry none too subtly. “Would you mind summoning it for me?”

Asgore holds out his hand in preparation, but hesitates the summon. He casts a look over to the priestess, who bows her head ever so slightly. “For us to begin strengthen its bond to your soul, of course.”

She wasn’t completely able to hide the swelling curiosity in her voice, but Asgore doesn’t feel in her aura that it isn’t genuine. It could very well be that she is hiding it, just like he is Toriel, but if the priestess is curious and excited to help Asgore improve his magic, then why should he snob that?

His lips tug into a quick smile.

Snob, what a strange word in this context.

But enough of that.

Now to...focus...relax...feel his magic course throughout him. Direct it to his hand. Feel it tense with his very being...and...flex.

The dim light from the open candles dotted around the room is drowned in a glowing red shine that sparks from Asgore’s hand. It grows in power as well as length, crackling with magical lightning that shoots up and down the long staff. From the top is formed three sharp spears that meld together with the staff to form his trident. The sensation runs through Asgore’s entire body, and he feels his souls swell bigger than he’s ever felt it before.

“Pride again, my prince?”

Asgore chuckles. “Yes, this I admit.”

The priestess nods, clearly impressed. “You are allowed to indulge, but do know that it is not yet fully developed with your soul, despite its impressive length and girth. For example,” the priestess motions her hand along the crackling lightning birthing and dying at various lengths and positions, “these are indicative of your magic not being completely connected with your soul. It is preferable for ranged magic, as connecting yourself to something you don’t plan keeping in close proximity with your soul will cause the bond to become strained beyond your limits. Should you decide to make use of your magic from range it is also preferable to not have the bond be strong between you and it since it could confuse you to feel it impact from beyond your natural form. Many a combatant become confused when they feel the impact of their magic occur at lengths beyond what they could ever reach with their hand.”

The priestess carefully turns Asgore’s trident as she continues to inspect it. “Do you plan on using it defensively, offensively, or both? I will teach you both, of course, I’m just asking to see which one you want to be taught first, should you wish.”

“Gerson has advised me to keep my magic balanced,” Asgore answers with a thoughtful nod.

The priestess returns the nod. “As you wish, we shall keep it balanced.” She taps her finger on the tips of the trident, and immediately retracts them while shaking the pain away. “Acceptable.”

Asgore has to fight his smile from growing.

“Now,” the priestess begins after hiding her finger behind her back, “having a more deeper bond when using your magic within melee range will result in more effortless movement of it. Your soul knows how you move, and so will your magic also move, without you even commanding it. You will move as one, strike as one, and defend as one.”

The priestess returns Asgore’s trident to him while giving it one last careful pat. “I hazard a guess that you’ve seen Sir Gerson and his magic? How he seems to move it without thinking? Strike his hammers in ways that shouldn’t be possible?”

Asgore has felt that plenty of time, yes. If Gerson had paint on his hammers, Asgore’s back would look like a painting. “I have, yes,” he answers while containing the shiver that was summoned from him reminding himself of the abstract art dented in his back.

The priestess nods absentmindedly. “Yes, his movement with his magic is quite impressive.”

Her aura…

“His strength with his weapons. The expertise that flows like a raging river with each strike.”

There’s something there…

“His confident laugh that rings out throughout the castle interior.”

Something…

“And the way his shell gets all-”

“Impure?” Asgore asks out loud. It struck him so hard that the word just tripped out of his mouth.

The priestess clears her throat violently, and her aura is rapidly subdued. “I guess this will be it for today.” She stands up quickly, almost swiping a candle with her robe. “We will continue more tomorrow, my prince.” Her bow is hurried, and her walk towards the door even more so.

“But-” Asgore tries to protest.

“Tomorrow!” the priestess replies a bit louder than she wanted to. She slips through the door like a cross-breeze, and the door closes as if one slipped through it.

The room turns dark as the candles are snuffed out.

//

“Toriel!” her boss greets as she enters the door. “These barrels?” he asks with a thumb thrown over his shoulder.

Toriel reaches into her dress pocket and flashes the note Asgore gave her yesterday. She flips it onto the counter where her boss is standing. He picks it up, and flattens it out by rolling his shoulder on it, before opening it.

His jaw hits the ground with an audible thud. “This...this...”

“This is from the Royal Family!”

Toriel almost bites a hole in her lip as she curls them up. Her entire body tenses up.

Jyuona is here…

“...offering the right to place orders for Royal Purple as is the privilege of a Royal Supplier!” she finishes reading out loud. Toriel can hear Jyuona blink in bafflement even with her back turned against her best friend. “What? How? When? Toriel?”

“Yesterday,” she answer while just barely tilting her head so it’s just visible over her shoulder. “I found it outside the door yesterday.”

Toriel’s boss swivels on his chair that he was forced to sit down on. The floor planks sing their pained screams as he does. “When did you find it? I was the last one out yesterday, but I didn’t find any.”

“I...” Toriel clears her throat. “I came back a bit later when I realized I had forgotten something. My...” Toriel’s eyes dart around what’s in front of her, “knife.”

…

Why?

“Your knife?” Toriel’s boss wonders out loud. “When did you-”

“A while back,” Toriel interrupts with a plastered smile. “Brought it here a while ago, actually. Took it home to sharpen it a bit.”

Toriel looks to Jyuona, who just shrugs. He does the same. “Alright then.” He returns to reading the note again. “So you found the two barrels, as well as this note last night?”

“Yeah.”

Toriel’s boss drags his smile into a quick and impressed frown. “Fair enough, should bring in some more guests if we advertise having Royal Purple back. I’ll put in a weekly order from now on.”

Toriel’s boss saunters off into the office with a jolly whistle that turns muffled as he closes the door behind him. Toriel concludes that the coast is clear, and squats down to do a quick inventory of what kinds of wine she has currently for the evening to come. 

Let’s see…

Some of that windmill wine left, a couple of bottles with houses on, one with a sheep, a couple with-

“You got the note from the Prince, Tori?”

Jyuona’s drink is almost spilled as Toriel flinches from the question, hitting her head on the underside of the counter with a thud so loud it turns the heads of the few patrons in the tavern at this hour. She drags a sharp inhale through her clenched teeth to cope with the pain from the impact. As her hand massages her head, she carefully pokes her chin over the bar counter. Her clenched teeth coupled with her pained frown has Jyuona jumping back with her bar stool to be out of Toriel’s reach.

“I just...” Jyuona begins to defend, but seeing Toriel’s seething look, she decides that her mouth will be safer inside her half empty tankard.

Toriel returns back down to continue her inventory. Where was she? Oh, right. Sheep, houses, windmill, some with vineyards, a castle, and a-

“But really, was it the Prince?”

Emerging like a raging avalanche, but one that flows upward, and with eyes peering so sharp it could cut through the thickest of bank vaults, Toriel again meets her friend’s eyes. “Jyuona,” Toriel states hard. “Didn’t we talk about this yesterday?”

She nods. “We did, but yesterday your aura wasn’t at all like this. I recognize it. It’s the same you had when you landed this job. Lingering excitement. Royal Purple is good, but it didn’t warrant this from your aura back when you first tasted it, so it wouldn’t do that now despite how long you’ve been denied it.”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” Toriel challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“That I can agree on,” Jyuona agrees on while sipping some of her mead, “but it’s not about the wine.”

“You’re thinking it’s about the Prince?” Toriel challenges again, but this time she has to consciously raise her eyebrow even higher since, well, Jyuona’s right.

But there are things even more far fetched than Toriel wanting to see Asgore again, and that’s admitting that Jyuona’s right. It does strike her a bit though, not feeling comfortable sharing with her best friend. If she’s forced to hide it this much, then how much does Asgore have to hide it?

//

“Where are you going, Asgore?”

“I’m the Prince. I go wherever in my own castle!”

//

He’s the Prince though, shouldn’t be too hard for him.

//

“Where are you-”

“Still the Prince!”

//

He did manage to smuggle out two barrels of Royal Purple, so how hard can it really be?

//

“Good news, Asgore!”

“Prin- Oh, what?”

“We’ve managed to seal the hole.”

“You’ve...”

“Why are you carrying around those barrels, if I may?”

//

Perhaps Toriel should bring some of her own for the two of them to share. That bottle he brought disappeared rather quick, and if they plan to spend more time together, then perhaps they will need some more.

“Aaaaaand this is as much a proof as any!”

Toriel’s snapped out of her thoughts. “Hm?”

“You disappearing into thought like that!”

“What do you mean?”

Jyuona scoffs as she raises her tankard to her mouth. “Exactly.” 

Toriel shakes her head and returns to her inventory for the third time. Maybe this time Jyuona would let her actually finish.

“You’re not going back to that guy that lied to you, right?”

Of course she isn’t. Jyuona’s voice sounds different now though. Concerned, like how she was yesterday. Toriel sighs, and carefully stands up again.

“No, I’m not.” Technically Toriel isn’t lying. Last time she went out with Are, not Asgore. “He’s gone.”

“So what is it that’s lingering inside your aura?” Jyuona pries again, now with her usual endearing curiosity. “Gotta be something.”

“You won’t believe me if I tell you that it is the Royal Purple, and that I can place orders for it again?” Toriel tries. She’s not sure if it’ll work, but it’s her best explanation she can come up with right now. Not the real explanation, but the one that sounds the least like a lie. “It’s gonna make us even more prestigious than the sign extension. Royal Supplier and Royal Purple on tap? That’s gonna bring in floods of patrons.”

Jyuona holds her eyes on Toriel’s while the rest of her face underneath is covered by her tankard. After a long drink she finally nods. “I believe you, Toriel.” She quells a burp that almost has her cheeks exploding from the pressure. “You’re my friend, why wouldn’t I?”

Right…

“You are too,” Toriel sends back along with a warm smile. “You’re a complete and utter character,” she adds while tilting her head, “but you’re still my friend.”

Jyuona leans arrogantly over the bar with her arms folded underneath her torso. She raises a confident eyebrow. “And what does that say of your own character that you’re friends with me.”

Toriel whips her towel an inch away from Jyuona’s face, but it barely summons a blink from Jyuona. She leans her head forward, still with her eyebrow high. “You need glasses, Toriel.”

“Would you look at the time!” Toriel exclaims while turning around to the clock behind her that isn’t there. “It’s time for you to go be annoying somewhere else, Jyuona. You mustn't dawdle! What if you’re late to your appointment of being a splinter underneath someone’s nail?”

“I get the distinct impression that I’m not wanted here,” Jyuona replies with snark so prevalent it could be bottled and sold for ages to come.

“I understand that,” Toriel agrees, “but that’s because that’s what I’m saying.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Toriel waves her towel in Jyuona’s face. “That is so.”

Jyuona swats it away, and finally breaks her facade. “You keep giving your customers this sorta treatment, Toriel.” She dismounts her bar stool. “I’ll see you later!”

Toriel waves her friend goodbye, and as she turns to continue her other duties, she spots a new face looking perplexed at Toriel.

“She’s a good friend of mine,” Toriel explains.

The patron nods. “...Right.”

Now, for Toriel’s actual purpose of her inventorying. What to bring with her tonight?

//

“’Scuse me, pal?”

Asgore peeks an eye open, seeing a blue monster hunched over with his hands in his pocket and a tooth picker poking out the side of his mouth. His dragon-like posture is quite remarkable, but his size isn’t really the biggest Asgore’s seen in his life. 

“You gonna be here for a while?”

Asgore nods quietly before closing his eye again. He exhales the distraction, and coils his legs tighter to regain his focus. 

The snap of a finger next to his ear has him flinch, and again he opens one eye.

“It might’ve sounded like a question, pal, but it really wasn’t,” the blue monster explains while nodding his head condescendingly. He throws a claw over his shoulder. “Beat it! I promised my date I would show her this view. It’s one you should really share with someone special in your life. You’ve been sitting here alone, time to let someone else enjoy it. The fact that you’ve had your eyes closed is your own fault.”

“I’m waiting for someone too,” Asgore informs as calmly as he can. He closes his eye again, and-

“Listen here!” the blue monster pushes the two of his palms against Asgore’s shoulder. He hesitates for a moment as him pushing against Asgore proves as much effect as if he would push against the castle walls. “I’ve been waiting a long while for this date, planned for weeks, and I’m not gonna let a cross legged bench warmer like you keep that from happening. I’ve already passed numerous Royal Guards to make this happen, pal, so don’t think you can just sit this one out. You’ve already done that plenty already.”

Numerous Royal Guards? 

Asgore chuckles to himself. The sound, however, doesn’t come with a label stating who it was meant for, and the increasing sharpness of the blue monster’s breathing makes it loud and clear that he believes the chuckle was intended for him. 

He scoffs as he drags two hands across both of his noses. “So that’s how it is?” the blue monster says as he pushes himself upright from Asgore’s shoulder. “A comedian? Well, why don’t I bring with me a crowd for you to do some standup then? We’ll see how will be laughing when you won’t even be able to stand to do your routine. You’d best be good at improv.”

That sounds like a threat, but before Asgore can rebuke, the blue monster walks off with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Asgore shrugs, and returns to his meditation.

He needs to focus, consolidate all of his experience. Collect it in his soul, and let it surge through him.

He needs to come up with a pickup line that’s good enough for Toriel!

//

Hm…

There are quite a few monsters making their way to where Asgore said he would meet Toriel. They seem a bit miffed as well. Moving in one singular group, snapping their fingers rhythmically.

Strange…

Did he bring a group of bards with him? 

But didn’t he want to keep this somewhat of a secret? Wouldn’t monsters serenading bring attention? 

Very strange indeed.

And look! There’s even a crowd!

“Alright, pal!”

He has friends? Outside the castle?

“Why don’t you share with us all that joke you were so fond of?”

Toriel’s brow just keeps furrowing. What is Asgore up to?

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

There’s lightning in the air. Smells like trouble. The snapping seems to have stopped as well, can’t be a good sign.

If only she could see over this large monster standing in the front row! Toriel looks around.

Perhaps...

//

That sure is a large monster standing in the front of the crowd.

“Hey!” the blue monster repeats again, louder. “Last chance to beat it!” He puts his arms on Asgore’s shoulders. “I’m serious.”

Asgore casually saunters his eyes to that of the ones seething at him like the wildest of fires. He should probably deal with this before Toriel gets here. 

“I was here first,” Asgore answers calmly. “This is public property and not owned by any individual. It is not yours, nor is it mine. However, me being present here before you means that I was here first. I would’ve offered to share with you, but your manor speaks volume to you not considering the option should I give it to you. Take your hands off of me, please.”

“How about I add more?”

“That’s the opposite of what I asked for.”

A loud whistle cuts Asgore’s ears, and he winces from the sound. When he recovers, he spots a handful more monsters closing in on him. 

Seems that negotiations have been cut short.

Asgore lifts his arms out from underneath his robe. 

He extends it to his side.

And flexes his wrist.

//

Toriel scrambles up the last couple of roof slates. She finally has a good view of what’s happening and-

Oh no…

//

Asgore keeps his head low as he tenses his arm. A red staff grows from his hand, and he brings the end down on the ground for support as he stands up. He extends his back, towering over the blue monster, who scrambles back in fear.

“You...” Asgore begins before a rapid movement at the edge of his vision catches his eye. He subtly looks over with one eye while keeping the other on the blue monster.

It’s Toriel!

//

What the hell is he doing!

//

Why is she waving? Where is she waving? Away?

//

Yes! 

Come here! 

Alley! 

Now!

//

“You…” Asgore says again as he looks back at the blue monster. Toriel’s climbing back down, so he has to do something quickly now. “You can have the place.” He takes a bow, unsummoning his magic in the process. “Excuse me.”

The crowd is left stunned, allowing Asgore to slink through it quickly and duck into the alley Toriel was pointing to without anyone following with naught but a perplexed look.

//

“What are you doing?” Toriel shouts through a whisper. “Why the crowd?”

“I...I held the place for us, and then this monster-”

Toriel hushes Asgore, and drags him further into the alley as the crowd starts dispersing behind him. 

“It’s not even the right place!” she shouts again through a more harsher whisper.

//

It’s...not?

“It’s not?”

//

“It’s a couple more streets up.” Toriel can barely finish her sentence. “It’s...it’s-”

Now it’s Asgore turn to hush her, and catch her, as Toriel bends over forward in a fit of laughter.

He. Is. So. Hopeless!

Oh my god! 

“You don’t even know how to read street signs!”

//

Asgore can feel his blushing radiating warmer than the Sun.

//

Toriel manages to control herself, but just barely. She stands up on her own, drying her eyes. “Wow!” she says through a chuckle. “Can’t blame you for not making interesting dates though, my Prin-” Toriel’s cheeks almost explode as a new fit of laughter surges through her.

Asgore again has to catch her.

“The Prince doesn’t even know his own capital!”

//

At least she’s laughing…? Can’t be a bad sign...right?

“So...um…” Asgore says with a mountain of fluster. “Should we go to the right place, perhaps?”

//

Absolutely hopeless.

Again Toriel swipes her eyes with her hand. “Yeah, sure.” A last chuckle surprises her. “After you.”

//

Now’s the chance! The meditation! All that time spent! Do it!

Asgore opens up his palm for Toriel. “Would you hold this for me?” he asks with a warm smile.

Toriel’s laughter stops dead in its track. Her furrowed brow glances down to Asgore’s hand, and then up to meet his eyes. She scoffs. “Come on now, Prince. I’ll show the way.”

Asgore sighs…

So close.

//

Why is he so good at those?


	12. Lighting the fuse

“So, the frozen treat salesman wasn’t there to guide you?”

“No...”

“Anyways.” Toriel points up with two of her fingers towards the weathered wooden sign. The text is a bit faded, but it’s still legible. “This is where it is. We just head into this street.” She moves her fingers to behind Asgore. He turns his head over his shoulder. “And there is where the frozen treat salesman was.”

Asgore nods. “I see.”

“Was he there during the parade, by the way?” Toriel asks after first making sure none of the monsters around her and Asgore are paying attention to them. The commotion from before seems to have calmed down a bit. The large group dispersed more so down the road than up the road where Toriel and Asgore went. Not that she’s surprised by that, it wasn’t really the upper echelon of monsters that made up the crowd.

Well, besides the most upper one standing next to her.

“No, I didn’t,” Asgore answers with a small shake to his head. “I was inside my carriage by the time. I only took stage when I felt the heart of the monsters around me beating as one. It felt like my own, all the excitement, all the hope, for me, by me, and through me.”

Despite it being a cloudy night, the entire street Toriel and Asgore are walking down lights up like midday as Asgore’s remembering smile grows wider and wider.

“I couldn’t sit down with all of that bubbling inside of me! I had to show them! I had to give back in whatever way I could. A display so grand it would be remembered forever.”

Toriel breathes in through clenched teeth as she none too subtly turns her head away.

“It was just as I envisioned it,” Asgore continues, sweeping his hand in a magnificent arc above him. “All of my magic poured into it, until...” His hand retracts as he looks over to Toriel whistling innocently next to him.

“Hm?” she asks, pretending not to have heard. “What?”

“What?”

“Good.” She nods. “Seems to be empty,” she points out. Not that’s she changing the subject or anything? “Maybe they left to get closer to the fight below. Your mistake turned out fine, after all. What luck!”

Toriel hurries off to the bench before Asgore can find his words again. She sits down with a sigh, “I think I’ve walked up and down this hill more time this last week than I have my entire life,” and reaches into her bag from which she takes out two bottles of mead. She hands one to Asgore as he sits down next to her. “My turn to bring the drinks. Might not be Royal Purple level, but it should still good.”

“I...” Asgore taps the neck of the bottle with his finger as he pauses to find the right words. “I couldn’t bring with me anything tonight.”

Good thing Toriel brought some more then. “It’s fine, I have more.”

“Oh, good.” Asgore looks at his bottle. “Yes...now...”

Toriel halts the bottle at her lips. She chuckles.

So hopeless.

“Put your index finger underneath the cap.” Toriel clearly needs to show Asgore how to open the bottle, what with him looking at it like it’s a dastardly puzzle. “And then put your thumb underneath for support. Give it pressure, and-”

Asgore recoils back as a spout of foam jumps out of his bottle. It hangs proudly in the air for a split second before falling over onto the ground with a splat.

Toriel fails to hide her giggle. “It happens to a lot of guys their first time.”

//

What exactly does she mean by that?

//

“Hey!” Toriel spins around fully after only leaning her head over her shoulder. “You can see the tavern from here!”

“That’s kinda why I thought this was a good place,” Asgore admits sheepishly. “And the rest of the town.”

“I can even see the place where your fireball...”

Toriel clears her throat again, and again she tilts her head away. She taps her bottle impatiently on the stone wall she’s leaned out on.

“Why did you do it?” Asgore asks while still facing inwards towards the street, away from Toriel. Or perhaps, her facing away from him?

His bottle dangles between his legs as he anxiously waits for the answer.

Toriel’s bottle eventually comes to a standstill. She sends a deep sigh over the city below her, and her ears flop as if hung out to dry as her head drops down. “I...” She tilts her head up again. “I felt it would put you a bit more on the ground,” she explains while waving her bottle haphazardly around as she speaks. “Here’s the Prince, finally gracing us lowly peasants with his presence. Descending from the castle to show us how great he is.”

She shrugs, drinking some mead to perhaps help her. “The Prince in his big parade taking up everyone’s attention, conjuring a big fireball in the sky!” Toriel makes a circle in the air with her finger approximately as big as the ball was from her perspective. “You were bragging, so I thought I’d take you down a few pegs. Put your promise to test when you said you wanted to be as us commoners.”

“I wasn’t bragging,” Asgore says in his defense. He extends his hands up as if embracing the ball of fire. “I made it to show my future people that they had nothing to fear. That I was worthy of the praise they were showering me with. I wanted to give back, to show them that they could have faith in me.”

Sounds like bragging to Toriel’s ears. Yet, there’s something about how it says it that makes her feel like he really means it.

“It worked,” Toriel at least agrees on that part. “Everyone thought it was spectacular, that it was a display for the ages. The tavern was buzzing with how great your magic was the day afterwards.”

Asgore shakes his head. “Not everyone...”

Toriel halts her bottle just at the touch of her lips. She brings it down again with a tired exhale. “No.” A long beat passes as she finds the place where they met for the first time again. With her head slowly shaking, she brings her bottle back up to her lips. “Not everyone.”

“What have I done to you, Toriel?” Asgore wonders as his muzzle scrunches up into a confused frown. He turns his head around. “What have I, as the Prince, done to you?”

“Besides lying about not being him?” Toriel retorts while looking over her shoulders, shutting down Asgore in the process. He slinks back to looking down at his bottle. “Although,” Toriel admits, “you did it for a reason. A reason I kinda proved was good by...you know...”

“Running away when you found out?”

Toriel drags a sharp inhale through her teeth. “Yeah...” She silences it by taking another sip. “I did that.”

“Again, because I am the Prince.”

Asgore can feel her nodding without even looking at her.

“Because you are the Prince,” Toriel repeats while catching a glimpse of her boss leaving the tavern.

“For what reason, Toriel?”

“Because you’re the Prince. Because you’re a member of the Royal Family. You live in the castle.” Toriel counts on her fingers. “The Royal Guards keep lamenting while drinking. There hasn’t been a single day in my memory where I haven’t heard news about you or your health.”

Asgore’s brow furrows hard, and he slowly turns around. He meets Toriel looking casually over her shoulder. “Yeah, town criers have been spouting your health and progress daily ever since you were born.”

His face drains of color, as much as a glistening white face can. His aura speaks volumes though, loud and clear for Toriel to pick up. “Yup,” she says, smacking her lips to punctuate. “Every single day we heard how great you are, how great you were, and how great you will become.” Toriel lifts up her bottle high up, cheering to the entire city! “A prosperous future awaits us all! Long live the Royal Family! Long live us all!” she shouts. She gets a cheer back from a couple of monsters a few blocks down.

She lowers her bottle again. “Hearing that you’re so great, mighty, perfect, every single day. It just becomes so...irritating. You hear it so many times that it becomes white noise, almost more times per day than you hear your own breathing. After a while, you start to notice, just slightly, that the crier’s voice waivers a bit while speaking, as if he’s himself bored of saying the same thing over and over and over again. You start to wonder.”

“Insanity?” Asgore pries.

“Not really, no. I wouldn’t say that. Just...” Toriel drags another breath through her teeth. “Suspicion? Or something. Hesitation might be a better word.”

//

This is…

Asgore had no idea!

“What have they said about me?”

Toriel scoffs loudly. “What didn’t they say about you?” She shakes her head as she hovers the neck of her bottle under her chin. “Your magical progress, your physical prowess, your swelling intellect. Is it true that you withstood an entire regiment attacking you for eight hours with nothing but a wooden shield?”

“It was six hours...”

//

Oh… “Oh.” That’s… “That’s still impressive…” So there was at least a hint of truth to the crier’s words? Toriel takes a thoughtful drink. “Color me surprised.”

“I collapsed immediately after,” Asgore adds. “Did the crier say anything about that?”

“No, afterwards they told us about how you managed to push back and break their ranks. You screamed, with the last air you had left, that you would never waiver as long as you had a people to protect. That you would never let someone under your wing be frightful!” Toriel chuckles as she remembers. “That sat well with the winged monsters, gotta tell you, and...” Her chuckle turns into a laughter desperate to escape her. “Are you blushing?”

“That was also true...”

Toriel’s...Toriel’s speechless. Not even her laugh can escape her lips. She’s stunned. Oh my god. She doesn’t know what to say.

“It just felt right,” Asgore explains sheepishly. “Just...felt right to say that, but again, I collapsed out of exhaustion immediately after. Gerson said that it was a good battle cry though. Mom too...”

Toriel can only shake her head in disbelief.

“If it means something, then sorry that you’ve had to hear about me all these years.”

Toriel’s head stops. Something about his voice piques her ears.

“I’m guessing that there’s been criers all over town, all over the country?” Asgore asks absently.

Toriel nods. “Yes,” she answer equally absent as the question, as her entire focus is on trying to deduce what kind of emotion is in Asgore’s voice.

“I see.”

Is it...sorrow?

“The parade...”

Yes, definitely sorrow. But why? Toriel has a sneaking suspicion that she’s about to find out.

“I thought they were happy to see me. Happy to share with me. All they’ve heard of me has been lies though, exaggerations. Did I fail? Why did they have to embellish what I did? Was I not good enough?” Asgore’s breathing turns sharper with each question, and Toriel turns around curiously. “I did my best! I did everything that was asked of me, and more! Now I learn that it wasn’t enough for them? They had to lie to make the people believe in me?”

Asgore lunges himself up, prancing back and forth with his fists clenched. He shoots an angry look up to the castle, holding it there as his muzzle drags into a grizzled frown. “Am I not enough for you?” he shouts. “The smiles of the people were to a Prince that you’ve created by your words, and not the Prince created by my own hard work!”

Toriel looks anxiously around her for anyone in earshot distance. She’s not gonna stop Asgore though. It sounds like he needs this.

There’s also something about how he prances around like that. So...confident, despite his said confidence being shattered just now.

“They didn’t celebrate me! They celebrated someone else! Someone else you’ve created!” Asgore accuses with his finger pointing harshly at the castle. “Same name, face, and voice as me, but not me! You’ve created the Prince, but I am the Prince! I will...”

His shoulders heave up and down heavily.

“I will...”

His eyes catch the full bottle in his hand. He grips the neck tighter, and shoves the bottle up to his mouth that he bends his head backwards. He drinks deeply, finishing of the mead if just a couple of heavy glugs.

He looks at the now empty bottle in his hand, and quells a deep burp.

Wow…

Impressive…

Asgore turns around. “You said you had more?”

Toriel pops the cap off another bottle, handing it over to Asgore while her eyes just stare at him big as plates. He grabs it with a thanks, and returns to his pacing.

Her lower lip bends inwards, and the teeth on her upper jaw caress it gently.

What confidence…

//

Oh boy…

Drinking that entire bottle might’ve been a mistake. Asgore has to sit down so that the mead doesn’t come charging back up again.

Has this been going on his entire life? This embellishing? The few smiles from Gerson, were they even real, or just condescending? The nights Asgore’s gone to sleep with a pride smile towering above his exhausted body and mind, were those the ones where the lies were conjured up? When Asgore gave it his all, and more, wasn’t it enough more? When he pushed himself further than even Gerson could imagine, was that not enough?

What are they expecting of him? Are they angry at him not being a human? Is that it?

//

Maybe Toriel should sit next to him. Otherwise his broodiness might plunge the entire country into complete darkness. She eases herself down from the wall, and slides down on the stone bench next to Asgore. He looks up from his hunched over position, and she meets him with a warm smile.

//

Those eyes…

The stars are fighting among each other for the privilege to reflect in those gleaming sapphires.

That smile…

A desert during summer high noon is like a frozen tundra compared to the calm and soothing warmth radiating from her gentle lips tucked back.

She’s so beautiful…

So-

_BURP_

//

Toriel pokes Asgore’s side with a friendly elbow. “The Prince is a bit of a lightweight, ey?”

He nods while pressing his hands against his mouth. “It just...” His words barely manage to slither out between his clenched fingers.

“Sounded the same to my ears.” Toriel nods behind her, spinning around so that she sits with her knees on the bench, and leaning her upper body onto the wall again. “Sounded just like someone who’s had their world view shattered.”

Asgore follows her after letting his blush die down a bit. She didn’t seem to mind that much about Asgore’s unfortunate belch. “There are two princes around in this kingdom. Me, and the one everyone knows about, and he is leagues ahead of me. I could never live up to his expectations.”

“He’s not real though,” Toriel offers in an attempt to brighten this gloomy Royal. It barely dawns on her how weird it would’ve been for her barely a week ago to do so. “You’re real, and that he can never live up to.”

“Is that what was bothering you about me, Toriel? That I wasn’t the Prince that you’ve heard so much about?”

Is this the moment? The moment where Toriel exposes herself? To the Prince, of all people. As she glances her eyes across his face, she feels an overflowing feeling of security. He’s not what she thought he would be, not even close, but if he would’ve been, they wouldn’t be sitting here discussing it, now would she? “Yes, but not in the way you think, actually.”

Toriel drags a calming breath. “The Prince the criers cried about, he was so magnificent, so grand, so perfect. You’re not.” She puts up a finger. “Not in a bad way,” she has to make perfectly clear. “The Prince we’ve been told about is arrogant, pompous, full of himself. How could he not be if he agreed to have his life be shouted at every street corner?”

“I didn’t.”

Toriel challenges the notion with a hard stare, just to be sure. He doesn’t buckle, his eyes, nor his aura, and she nods. “You didn’t.” She clanks her bottle carefully on Asgore’s “So cheers to that, at the very least.”

They both take a swig in unison.

“I feel conflicted, as if it’s wrong for me to feel like I’m having a good time now,” Toriel admits after quelling a hiccup. “All my life I’ve been craning my head back in disgust at the sight of the castle, blowing raspberries in my younger days, and even ruder gestures when I learned of those. This huge monument to reinforce all the absolute bullshit being spouted by those criers at every. Damn. Corner.”

Toriel glances a slap on Asgore’s shoulder. “And then you come along, Prince Of Dorks, not knowing a street from an alley, and acting like you’ve never set foot outside the castle.” She tugs an amused smile. “I guess that was true, if anything.”

“I have been outside the castle.”

“The parade doesn’t count!” Toriel points her bottle down to Asgore’s feet. “You never took an actual step outside your carriage.”

“I’ve visited other castles,” Asgore tries again, but Toriel’s raised eyebrow has him realizing. “Oh...right...outside a castle.”

“Exactly.” Toriel returns her face to its amused state as she chuckles lightly. “If you want I could see to getting you some more common clothing so that you could walk around and get your feet dirty. We’ll throw some dirt onto that clean fur of yours and no one would be the wiser. Maybe a bit of mud to disguise your beard too.”

Asgore reflexively grabs it, sheltering it inside his hands.

Toriel chokes a guffaw at the sight. He’s like a child clutching a toy just before bedtime. Amazing.

“I don’t have any money though,” Asgore says after the shock has faded, as he slowly brings his beard back into the harshness of reality.

“What?” Toriel lifts her ear up, she can’t have heard that right. “You don’t have any money?”

Asgore shakes his head in shame. “No, nothing.”

Toriel’s ear slides off her knuckles, and slaps against her cheek. She doesn’t blink. “The Prince...The Prince of our country.” She meets Asgore’s eyes again. “He has no money. He’s family is the richest in the country, but he has no money whatsoever.”

“Never stepped foot outside the castle,” Asgore reminds with his voice flustering to the point of almost breaking.

Toriel tilts her head up as it becomes clear for her. “Aaaaah! Of course. Right, gotcha. Don’t think I can give you the clothes for free though. All the ones I have are for me, and I don’t think they’d fit you well. I’m guessing you don’t want to steal from your parents as well?”

“That would be...treason, I think.” Asgore takes a thoughtful drink. “It hasn’t happened before so I don’t know the exact juridical ramifications that would entice.” He turns to see Toriel’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Or something...”

She lets loose a chuckle. Such a dork.

The conversation dies down, but to Toriel, that’s not really a bad thing. The things they’ve talked about, it’s not really something straight from a fairy tale. Considering how the first of their dates went, this is quite welcoming. Just some shared quiet to enjoy their drinks together.

It’s nice.

//

It’s quiet.

Should it be?

Is she angry?

Should Asgore say something?

Anything?

Or should he leave it quiet?

Is he supposed to take the initiative now? Strike up something?

But what?

About him? About her?

“So, how about-”

Toriel puts her finger up. “Shh.” She tilts her head towards the distant sounds of bells, counting them under her breath.

//

Oh, right. She still got work tomorrow. Her bottle is finished though, so no waste there.

“It’s late. I have to head home now,” she says to Asgore. “Your time to bring drinks with you next time.”

“Next time?” he asks.

Toriel’s eyes move over his chiseled muzzle, his flowing beard, and that goofy smile that parts it.

Yeah, there’s gonna be a next time.

Especially since it means that he’s bringing that even fancier Royal Purple next time!

“Yes, next time. The night after tomorrow? Sounds good?”

“S-sure, b-but I’m not sure if I can. I have a diplomatic meeting I have to prepare for with the humans. I have to learn some of their customs, their constellations. It’s a l-lot, and-”

Oh for crying out loud!

Toriel puts her hand behind Asgore’s neck, feeling it tense harder than the stone bench the two are sitting on. Big mistake, because that’s just gonna give her better leverage. She blinks once and softly, to give him a warning of what’s to come.

//

What is she doi-

//

Toriel pulls Asgore closer to her, locking her lips with his. His beard tickles her as a gentle wind makes it dance all across her face. He’s not responding to her lips, but she didn’t think he would.

She’s gonna get hers later.

After a long couple of seconds, Toriel lets her lips loose from Asgore. She tilts her head down so that her eyes stare seductively up to his.

“Is that enough motivation for you?” she asks while biting her lower lip.

“Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-”

Sounds like it is!

Toriel nods, satisfied that she’s managed to convince him. “Then I’ll see you at the frozen treat place at the same time the night after tomorrow?”

“Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-”

She laughs as she leaves him standing with his half empty bottle dangling at the tip of his fingers.

He might be the Prince, but she can work him like a yo-yo.

“Until then, my Prince.”


	13. Fireworks

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best chapter I've written thus far, btw.


	14. Embers falling down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes. I had my fun.
> 
> Here you go.

“It’s too bad you were busy yesterday evening, Toriel.”

“Had things to do, sorry.”

Jyuona shrugs. “It’s fine, but I gotta tell you, you missed out on something really interesting, to say the least.”

Toriel slaps her towel over her shoulder and hangs up the last of the mugs back up on the hooks behind her. “And say you’re going to, I’m guessing?”

“Yes,” Jyuona answers with her face covered by her tankard. “You see, I was on a date last night.”

“Is that so?” So it was not only Toriel, not that she’d say that. "Judging by your voice you had a good time. Who is she?”

“He, actually.”

“Oh.” It takes a beat for Toriel to process that, after which she has to make a conscious effort to blink herself back to reality. “Alright.” Now ain’t this a surprise.

“Yes, I know.” Jyuona sighs, but it’s one Toriel’s familiar with. One of those she’s pretty sure she’s drawn today as well. A sigh born out of reminiscing the night before. Toriel has to also consciously fight her urge to draw one right now. “He’s funny though, strong, has a speedy tongue made out of silver, and my god does he have courage.”

“I can see from your melting shoulders that he’s more than that too.” Toriel suppresses a giggle. It’s not a hostile one though, quite the opposite. It’s been a long while since Toriel saw Jyuona like this. Good on her.

“We met as I was walking to work from here a couple of days ago. Bumped into him as he was turning the corner.”

“Oh, so literally.”

Jyuona nods. “Yup, as literal as you can get. He’s an accountant, and was carrying a satchel of papers that exploded as we collided. I felt bad having caused a rain of, what seemed to be, important papers, so I stayed to help him pick them up.”

“Felt bad, ey?”

Jyuona throws a pair of unamused eyes over to Toriel. “Anyway,” she refreshes herself with some more of her tankards content, “there was a bit of a wind though, so we went chasing them across like three streets. Our upper halfs bent over, grasping desperately after the papers that seemed to have minds of their own. Minds that did nothing but mock us as they fluttered away from our grasp just as we thought we’d grab them.”

Toriel chuckles at the imagery.

“Yeah, exactly.” Jyuona takes another drink to moisten her throat. “Felt like half an hour before we had them all stuffed back inside his satchel.”

“In the same order, I’m guessing?”

Jyuona extends her index finger. “You’re too late on that one, Tori.” She points it out the window in the general direction of where she bumped into this accountant. “He already made that joke. Like I said, he’s witty.”

“You didn’t-”

“I implied it.” Jyuona throws her arms out with a playfully condescending look towards Toriel. “Come on now, Tori, keep up.”

She just rolls her eyes.

“Anyways, we both burst into laughing after he made that joke. I guess we were both flustered by that whole situation. As if I would ever laugh at something like that normally?”

No answer is probably for the best, so Toriel gives none. 

“Chasing around papers for half an hour, guess that’s an icebreaker. Who would’ve thunk?”

“I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, you have. You’ve thrown out people for better ice breakers than what he did too.”

Toriel’s not gonna dispute that. Her guilty frown has Jyuona chuckling though, so it’s all water under the bridge.

“He offered to buy me lunch, or dinner, whatever fancied me, for helping him.”

“You’d do anything for a free lunch and or dinner,” Toriel intercepts with a snarky tone to her voice. She shoots Jyuona a raised eyebrow, which she quickly shoots right down.

“Yes...” she admits, “but this time was different!”

“So what did you choose, Jy? Didn’t see you here.”

“Neither did I!” Toriel’s boss shouts from the kitchen downstairs. 

“You eavesdropping?” Toriel shouts back. “What would your wife say if she knew you were listening in on two young ladies talking about their dating life?”

A silent beat passes.

“Forget I said anything,” Toriel’s boss pleads.

Toriel kicks the flap door close to be extra sure.

“Anyways, again,” Jyuona takes a drink to build suspense, “no, we didn’t go here, we went to a place he recommended.”

“Just as good as here?”

Jyuona tilts her head back and forth while she drags an uncomfortable smile. “I’m not gonna say yes, because I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Ha! Yeah, right. Toriel scoffs at that incredibly silly notion. 

“It was nice though, the company that is,” Jyuona quickly adds. “We talked about things, most of the words I don’t remember, but I remember the feeling. It’s...” Jyuona trails off as a low and satisfied hum flows out of her. “I’ve missed it, Toriel. It’s been...so long.”

A tear runs down Jyuona’s cheek. She quickly dries it off.

“She’s in a better place,” Toriel offers as comfort.

“She is...” Jyuona dries away another tear. “She is...”

Toriel leans over for an embrace, which Jyuona quickly hurries into. She exhales a quivering breath over Toriel’s shoulder before gently pushing herself away.

“Thanks, Tori.” Jyuona takes a long and calming inhale that she breathes out into her almost empty tankard. “Thinking of him helps, so I believe this is really good for me.”

“I’m glad to hear you feeling this well, Jy. It really warms my soul seeing you this happy again.”

Jyuona nods. “You know, I think he might be the one. Seriously. I can’t remember laughing as much as I did when we had that lunch. He’s so quick to make a joke, like, the quickest snap of his finger and he’s off making a whole routine! It’s crazy, and my stomach still hurts from laughing so much. He’s just...”

And there she goes again! Toriel can’t help but laugh. It’s so relieving seeing Jyuona this awkwardly in love. It’s a good help for Toriel as well, she just has to do everything Jyuona isn’t doing right now and no one will be the wiser that she’s dating the Prince! 

And even less wiser that she kissed him last night.

Although ‘kiss’ might be an overstatement. She’s ‘kissed’ overflowing foam on tankards more passionately than what Asgore did. Just completely hopeless, yet again. She’s not opposed to the idea of helping him though. His beard did tickle her quite comfortably, and-

Jyuona snaps her finger in front of Toriel’s face, causing her to flinch. “I said I was fine, Tori,” Jyuona says softly, in stark contrast to her snap. “I’m trying to not think of her, can you do so as well? For me?”

“Y-yeah,” Toriel answers while nodding her head borderline furiously, “of course!” 

Jyuona smiles back at Toriel. “Thanks, Tori.”

“Y-you were saying something about your dinner with him? Laughing so much?”

“Yeah,” Jyuona nods as a chuckle escapes her, “my god did we laugh so much together. We didn’t even have to say anything afterwards, we both knew we wanted a second date. We traded names and when we could see each other again, and then we went home. He promised me he would find me a very special place for our next date.”

“And I’m guessing he did?”

Jyuona nods again. “He did, but it wasn’t easy for him, gotta tell ya.”

“How so?” It couldn’t be worse than what Toriel saw Asgore do. He was surrounded by an entire crowd! Surely it’s-

“He got in a fight with a Boss Monster.”

Toriel’s eyes widens. “Oh...”

“Apparently he’d been sitting there for like an entire afternoon. Just sitting. Not moving an inch even when Drayk asked him to. He’s named Drayk, by the way. More like Bossy Monster, am I right?” Jyuona’s cocky tilt of her head and shoulder quickly melts into a hurried, almost panicky, flail of her hands. “N-not you, of c-course!”

Toriel nods, still with her eyes widened like plates. “Sure...”

Jyuona can only guess what Toriel means by that exactly. She decides to continue.

“Drayk said that he asked nicely, but that the Boss Monster couldn’t have cared less. Drayk pleaded, tried to speak to the Boss Monster’s sensitive side. He was doing this for me, for a date, for love.” Jyuona swipes the air in front of her angrily. The draft drags with it Toriel’s ear, but she’s none the wiser of it. Her head is screaming.

How the hell did this coincidence happen? What are the odds? Why are the odds?

“But the Boss Monster just sat there. Drayk didn’t back down though! He came back later, determined to kick that loitering Boss Monster out so that we could have our romantic date! Just as Drayk was about to strike though, the Boss Monster just up and ran away. Scared! He was so scared!” Jyuona swoons around on her bar stool. “Drayk…” she whispers longily. “How can he be so brave?”

“Y...yeah.” Toriel nods, but it’s robotic. “It does sound like he’s very brave.” She blinks in an attempt to get some control back over her face. “Did you have your date afterwards?”

“We did.” Jyuona looks down. “There’s something I feel like I have to tell you though, Tori.”

Why that gloomy tone, all of a sudden? Is she gonna apologize for something? For what?

“In the middle of our date, after we had a few.” Jyuona puts her hand behind her neck, wringing it while breathing in through her clenched teeth. “We heard someone yell what the criers shout at the end. You know? A prosperous future awaits us all. Long live the Royal Family. Long live us all. That thing?”

Again Toriel’s eyes widen.

“And we kinda...well, shouted it back.” Jyuona squirms, rubbing her hands together as her head moves from side to side. “I’m sorry, Tori. I know how many times we’ve blown raspberries at the castle, and I was just as annoyed at the criers today as I was yesterday, but with Drayk, it just felt...” Jyuona’s shoulders heave solemnly all the while her sigh dance across the counter. “It felt right while with him. He hasn’t been outspoken about it, but it felt like we both had that in common. Something we both knew the other one enjoyed. Like a glimpse of that parade came back, flourished just enough between us.”

“Sounds nice.”

Jyuona’s head snaps up, along with her confused expression. “You’re...you’re not angry? Disappointed?”

“It’s good to hear you feel this well, Jy.” Toriel sends over a warming smile. “You think the Royals are more important to me than my friend?”

Jyuona’s mouth tugs into a smile and a frown at the same time. “That’s...” It eventually settles on a smile. “So...” And at last, a laugh. “Corny!”

Toriel’s smile drains quickly. “You serious?” she asks with both her eyebrows raised. Now she’s disappointed. “Just gonna throw that right back at me?”

“No! No no no no!” Jyuona has to take a deep breath to replenish herself from both laughing and forcing out her words. “I’m just so relieved, Tori. I promise. I thought that I’d had to choose. I’m feeling faint, I’m so relieved. I already had to choose between Drayk and… her, and now I thought-”

Toriel glances down at the empty tankard next to Jyuona. “Right...” It’s because she’s relieved that she’s feeling faint. Sure…

Jyuona finally manages to get herself under control. “Oh boy. I don’t think my shoulders felt more light than now.” She coughs one last chuckle. “I should probably head out now. Need to plan my days a bit now.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Jyuona nods. “I feel the same, Tori.” Her head bends down, and a silent sob is dragged through her clenched teeth. “I feel. I actually feel.”

Toriel embraces her friend again. “And I’m glad that you do.”

//

“We’re doing this again?”

“Mhm...”

Gerson taps his thumb impatiently into his palm behind his back as he leans across Asgore’s field of view, if he’d been registering anything, that is. He follows Asgore’s eyes, but they go straight through the table, floor, basement, second basement, and probably the third one too. Gerson, with only the appearance of patience, snaps his finger first underneath Asgore’s ears, and secondly in front of his eyes. It brings with it a reaction not unlike that of the breakfast served to the daydreaming prince.

Untouched.

“No!” comes from the kitchen as Gerson summons a hammer in his hand. “Not more of my chairs, Gerson!” The voice is imposing, given more strength by its echo throughout the vast and empty dining hall. “One more chair missing and you’ll get unsalted snails!” A fire monster pokes her head out the serving window, her flames flustered and violent, licking the wooden frame as a threat. “I’m serious!”

Gerson dissipates his hammer in clear view of the head chef. He presents his empty palm, and it seems to please her somewhat. She still huffs, mostly as another threat, and turns back into her domain.

“The wood,” Gerson informs.

An assistant that’s not a fire monster returns with a wet towel and smothers the small kindling beginning its life at the top of the serving window frame birthed by the chef’s angry huff. Gerson makes a mental note to reinforce flame height in the kitchen. Later though, right now he has another matter at hand.

Gerson returns to the Prince that’s seemingly out of town, if his mind is to be any indication. Twice now in a few days, can’t have that happening. If it were any other person, Gerson would understand, but since it’s the Prince, he can’t have this action be understood. He flexes his wrist, again, at the detest of the head chef, again. The hammer he summons is enough to take out the entire chair, if not the table, and the wild and threatening shouts from the kitchen falls on Gerson’s deaf ears like feathers onto a boulder.

He swings it downwards, against the legs of the chair. 

It connects, but it doesn’t run through. Gerson staggers backwards as the recoil pushes back against him violently. He dissipates his hammer again while shaking the pain out of his hands and shoulders. “Well, well, well.” His lips tug into a smile as he taps the sturdy, red trident with his foot. Summoned stalwart in defense of the chair’s innocent legs, it stands unflinching against Gerson’s tapping.

“And without being conscious about it?”

“Yes...I will, Gerson,” Asgore answers without any indication of him hearing the question.

Can’t prove it more than that!

Gerson allows himself some chuckling. “I’m only gonna say that I’m impressed since you can’t hear me right now, Prince.” He pats Asgore on his back. “Guess it means I can go harder on you now! Wa ha ha ha ha! You’re gonna regret this one, Prince.”

“In a bit...”

“Oh yes.” Gerson throws his foot in again towards the chair leg. He’s blocked once again by the trident snapping into its path. He tugs another smile. “Oh yes.”

“Yes...” Asgore answers, still with his mind wandering up the hills and over yonder.

“Now eat your eggs.”

“Yes...”

Gerson swiftly taps Asgore on the back of his head with a hammer.

“What!” Asgore flies up on his feet. “I’m awake!”

Gerson meets Asgore’s recently woken expression with a soft nod. 

“Eat your eggs.”

//

“Hear ye! Hear ye! The Prince’s magic has improved in ways we could never believe! His limits are yet again breached, and he will continue doing so! This is an inspiration to us all! A prosperous future awaits us all! Long live the Royal Family! Long live us all!”

Is that so?

A mischievous smile is dragged across Toriel’s lips.

Well, guess she has to ask him about it next time.

//

“Again!”

A third crackling trident hits the dummy target, knocking it off the chain hanging it upright. It crashes down onto the hard ground, throwing dust all around it. The red glow from Asgore’s magic turns the clouds into an ominous red mist, and a crackle shoots through it as Asgore hesitates seeing the color.

For that he gets a loud snap against his ear. “It’s your own magic, Asgore. You can’t fear it! It is who you are. You are it, and so it is you. Focus! Again!”

Asgore summons forth a trident in his hands. It’s not as effortless as the ones before were, and he has to catch his breath after conjuring it. As he does, he takes aim on the dummy again. He drags some of his newly formed trident back into him, lessening the connection. He made the mistake of focusing too much on the first trident he threw, and the strange and alien feeling of hitting something way beyond what he could ever reach with his limbs still looms within him like an aching miasma.

He steps back, moves his trident over his shoulder, and-

“Wait!”

Asgore’s throw is interrupted by Gerson grabbing the trident by the end. His shoulder is almost thrown out, and his grip slips, causing his hand to shoot forward until it connects with the top of his trident. 

Gerson pushes the end of the trident forward, directing it via Asgore’s hand down into the ground. “Roll it out,” he commands Asgore, who begins rolling his shoulder to get it back to normal.

Gerson walks up to the dummy. He has to narrow his eyes against the red glow, but he makes sure his back is facing Asgore so that he doesn’t see Gerson doing it. Gerson flexes his wrists, and two hammers materialize. He crosses his arms over his chest, and throw his hammers out on his sides. The hammers spin around the dummy, throwing up even more dust. The red glow from Asgore’s magic is obscured by the thick cloud that forms, and Gerson walks back to Asgore with a raging dust devil following him.

He produces an embroiled handkerchief from his shell that he ties around his mouth. He then reaches into the other side of his shell, and pulls out another one. He motions for Asgore to kneel. He then walks around him, and throws the handkerchief around Asgore’s head.

“But now I-”

Gerson interrupts the Prince by tightening the knot behind his head. “Exactly.”

“Can’t I get one for my mouth as well?” Asgore asks while turning his head on a guess where Gerson is standing now. The handkerchief is pushing against his eyes, and Asgore’s forced to furrow his brow so that it pushes against his eyebrows instead of his eyes.

“The quicker you hit the target dummy the quicker the dust disappears.”

//

What the hell is going on up in the castle? Smoke?

//

“Isn’t the blindfold enough?”

“Yes,” Gerson answers.

Oh…

Asgore feels a pair of hands grab his shoulders. He barely has time to even register the touch before he is spun around. He stumbles trying to get his feet under control, and is forced to plant his trident into the ground to achieve back his balance. He puts his hand up to his skull, but as he does, he’s hit on his knuckles. Asgore’s hand flinches away. “I wasn’t trying to remove the blindfold, Gerson!”

No answer. There’s only the violent sandstorm around him. 

“Gerson?” he asks again into the wind. “Gerson!”

But no one came.

The sand starts whipping against his cheeks, and Asgore puts his arm over his mouth to protect himself. The wind howls at his ears, whistling loudly as they flap like flags on both sides of his head. 

Through it all though, there’s a faint sensation. Like...him...but not connected. It’s strange, almost like a faint extension of him. 

It must be his magic!

It’s so faint though, and everywhere Asgore turns he feels the same faint extension. Where is it? Which one is the real?

He has to guess, it’s the only thing he can do!

Asgore lunges his spear at where he feels the faint glow is strongest. Moments later the dust calms down around him. He can finally breathe normally again, and with a relieved sigh he lowers his arm. Sand rinses audibly off his cloth on his robe, so much so that he can feel it pouring off like water.

He moves his hand gingerly up to his temple again, hesitant against another hit at his knuckles. It doesn’t come, even with Asgore grabbing the handkerchief. He pulls it off.

He has to shake his head a few times, and rub it a few more times, for enough sand to fall off so that he can open his eyes without an entire desert pouring into them. What he sees when he opens them though…

His trident peters out of existence as pathetically as it can do.

“So,” Gerson begins as he again puts a hand on Asgore’s shoulder, “what are you going to explain yourself with when asked why there are three holes with even spacing between them through the painting of your father?”

“That maybe there shouldn’t be a portrait of the King in a place with sharp objects and magic being constantly used?” Asgore hazards as a guess.

Gerson shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid not, dear Prince.” He gently pushes Asgore towards the door to the rest of the castle. “Make sure to clean your beard thoroughly. I don’t want to dull the razors on corns of sand.”

Asgore looks pleadingly over his shoulder hanging lower than his knees.

Gerson nods sternly. “All of it.”

Asgore slinks away, defeated.

Of all the days to have it shaved…

On the day which he has a date.

//

Toriel just can’t stop thinking of how smooth Asgore’s beard was all of a sudden.


	15. Overlooking the remaining ashes

“Two peaches, was it?”

Toriel’s hesitant to nod. “...Yes.”

She watches with bated breath as the Vulkin that apparently works at the frozen treat stand makes her order. She can tell that it’s excited, as balls of lava pops out of the top of its volcano. She takes a careful step back as one of the burning spheres land at the end of the stand closest to her. The frozen treat stays frozen during the entire process though, which is nothing but baffling to Toriel.

With satisfied whistling and humming, the Vulkin hands the frozen treats over to Toriel, who accepts them with two hesitant hands. The bowls aren’t hot to the touch though, quite the opposite. They sit very cold in her hands.

“Hope it tastes!” the Vulkin wishes warmly, as if it could otherwise. Toriel acknowledges the wish with a nod. Her hands are a bit busy carrying the treats at the moment, so that’s all she can afford to give.

Now, where is that Prince?

He should be around here somewhere. How can Toriel not see him? He’s a subtle as...well, a Prince in a crowd full of commoners, even with his disguise. A large white monster that walks as if his legs are made out of tinder and the slightest touch between them would set his pants on fire.

Where is he?

//

Just calm down.

JUST CALM DOWN!

Maybe she won’t notice. After all, it only covered the entirety of Asgore’s face in a completely different color, and-

Asgore rubs his temples while sighing with the wind. He takes a calming inhale through his mouth, but the lacking feeling of the air being filtered through his mustache is making. It. Worse!

Just…calm...down

//

Oh, there he is.

//

Oh no, there she is!

//

“Got us some frozen treats!” Toriel cheers as she approaches Asgore’s hunched over figure. He looks very broody, but for what reason Toriel’s not sure. Nothing one of these frozen treats can’t fix though! She can also see the outline of a wine bottle at the side of him. It’s almost poking through the fabric of his robe.

//

Just play it off. She won’t notice. Just say hi, pretend like nothing has happened.

Asgore exhales.

“Greetings, Toriel.”

She halts in her step.

Dammit.

//

Where did…

//

She noticed. My god, did she notice. She couldn’t have noticed it more even if she tried!

Asgore moves a hand up to rub his cheek, but the barren feeling sends a cold shiver down his spine, and he immediately removes it timidly. He can’t even muster up a feigned chuckle, just a pathetic smile.

//

His smile…

It’s so…

Uncovered.

It has the same awkwardness, the same sheepish and uncertain tug to it, but now that Toriel sees the entirety of it it’s...It’s just…

She blows her lips as her words fail her.

Hopefully he brought two bottles, because damn is she gonna need one for herself to look past this.

What happened to him? Where did it go? It can’t just have disappeared just like that! Beards don’t jump off and walk away, especially not on Royals!

Well, Toriel can’t really back that up with any real evidence, but if it sounds absurd for normal people, it must be at least double absurd for Royals!

//

She hasn’t moved the good part of a minute now. Just...frozen, like the treats in her hands. They’re about to melt. Maybe Asgore should take one off her hands in an attempt to change the subject?

//

Toriel flinches as a horrible creature sneaks in to steal her frozen- Oh, wait, that’s just Asgore. He retracts his hand with haste, almost as if the bowl burned his hand.

“S-sorry.”

Toriel hands him one bowl. “N-no, it’s me. It’s…a bit strange, that’s all. I guess it’ll help you blend in better though, silver lining.”

It won’t replace his missing golden lining though.

“I guess...” Asgore answers, clutching his bowl like a child would his doll after a nightmare. It’s a fair reaction though, Toriel can give him that much.

Maybe she can look this over. She’s managed to look over him being the Prince, so this shouldn’t be a problem, right?

She gives Asgore a warm and comforting smile, which he returns to the best of his abilities. Again his entire smile is visible, every awkward and uneasy inch of it. Like a row sugar cubes in a land of surrounding salt, and the cubes know they’re not supposed to be there.

Okay, maybe not as easily as overlooking him being the Prince.

“How many bottles did you bring?”

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

“Two.”

**_YES_ **

Toriel motions for Asgore to lead the way. “After you, Prince.”

//

She didn’t sound angry saying ‘Prince’. Nor sorrowed. Nor disgusted.

Playful.

Asgore has to blink a few times for it to sink in.

She sounded playful, coy, excited.

//

Oh wow!

Toriel chuckles quietly.

She can’t tell what’s hotter, the fireball he created before, or his flustered aura enveloping him like a thick blanket.

Maybe she should see exactly how hot it can get?

Toriel moves the bowl to her other hand, freeing up her arm closest to Asgore. She slips it underneath his, and drags herself closer to it.

//

Asgore.

You can do it.

Keep it under control.

You’re strong.

You’ve trained for this.

Show that-

//

No reaction, ey? Guess Toriel has to give it her all, then.

She leans her head onto his arm, snuggling it into place on his...really...strong...shoulder.

No, no, no, no. Keep it under-

But it’s so soft, yet so...toned.

Keep it-

No! To hell with it!

She’s gonna let herself get flustered over this too. She’s worked hard today! This girl deserves to enjoy herself. How can she not, with arms like these?

//

And there it goes.

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

//

And there it is.

His aura is flaring up even hotter than the fireball he made. You could cook eggs on his aura, no problem. You’d burn it instantly, but still.

Not only that, but leaning her head against his shoulder, it feels nice. Safe, sturdy, like nothing could ever touch her.

He’s way out of it though. Toriel can tell by the vacant look in his eyes. Despite him having his arm above hers, she’s the one leading them towards the place they were before.

She can’t help but giggle at the entire situation. The Prince, dragged along, by a commoner, with nothing but an arm and a little snuggle. Melted right into her hands. Worked like a yo-yo. He’s supposed to rule this country?

It’ll crash and burn as soon as he lays eyes on the Princess in the neighboring country.

Speaking of burn, Toriel has to remember to ask Asgore about his magic. First step is to bring him out of the state he is in though. Unfortunately, Toriel doesn’t have a crowbar to bend him back to reality.

She does have two bowls of frozen treats, and Asgore has two ears just hanging there on either side of his head. Perhaps…

//

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-_

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!

Asgore flinches backwards while swatting at his ears. He grabs them firmly, rubbing them with his hands to get some sensation back into them. They’re cold as ice! The feeling is strange, almost as if his ears are hanging separately from his skull.

“Here.”

Asgore accepts the handkerchief…Asgore accepts the handkerchief after a small moment’s hesitation. He wraps it around one of his ears and squeezes it for that precious warmth.

//

If he knew where Toriel pulled that handkerchief from he wouldn’t have that relieved look on his face.

//

Wait...she doesn’t have any pockets on that dress of hers…

//

Ah, there’s his reaction. Toriel should probably get his mind off that too. She snaps her finger against the bulge poking none too subtly through his fabric. “Shall we get started?”

It takes a moment for Asgore to understand what just happens. He scrambles for the bottle underneath his robe, and hands it over to Toriel, who pops it open with ease.

“Did you bring any glasses?”

“N-no.”

//

Dammit! He forgot about those!

//

Toriel shrugs, “Oh well,” and puts the bottle up to her mouth. She takes a careful swig, just to sample. Many to come, she reckons, so why hurry?

And my god, it’s even better than the one he brought before!

Toriel sloshes the wine around in her mouth, letting it coat every nook and cranny so that she can enjoy the taste. It dances across all of her tastes. Sweet, and sour, a bit bitter, but only to enhance the other tastes, sorta spicy, again to enhance. The taste hangs on long after she’s swallowed, and as she breathes it out, it’s like saying goodbye to an old friend.

She draws a long whistle while ogling the label on the bottle. “Good stuff!”

Toriel beckons for Asgore to join her on the stone bench. The sunset is still burning bright, right now it would blind them should they try and enjoy the view of the city. It shouldn’t be long before they can turn around and enjoy the view though. Not that either of them are in a hurry.

Asgore hands Toriel back her handkerchief, which she tucks underneath her girdle.

//

OH THANK GOD!

//

“So,” Toriel begins before interrupting herself with another sip of this delicious wine. She almost drifts off before remembering that she was supposed to ask a question. “What’s been going on with the Prince these lasts days?” She twirls the air in front of Asgore’s chin. “Besides this, that is. Or is it because of something that happened these last few day?”

//

Asgore rubs his chin.

Again he’s aware of the lack of beard, and again his heart sinks. Gotta answer her question though.

“Nothing much, really. Same same, really.” He tries to put a claw into the cork without looking, but he misjudges the width, and hits his claw onto the rim of the bottle’s neck. It sends an echoing hit throughout his arm, forcing him to retract and shake his hand loose of the pain. Toriel tries desperately to hide her giggle in the corner of Asgore’s eye.

His second try fairs better, and the cork pops open with a clear and distinct pop. He takes a careful sip, and again Toriel starts to giggle. Asgore looks down the bottle, and sees that his pinky finger is extended. It feels weird, almost insulting to himself, but he forces it down against the glass.

“You?” he asks back. “Anything special about you, Toriel?”

“Is that another one of your icebreakers?” she sends back with a raised eyebrow.

Is it? Well...it could be. “Anything special about you, despite the entirety of you?”

Toriel shakes her head, but her amused smile speaks another story. It sticks on her lips even when she drinks some more wine.

//

How does he keep coming up with those?

“Nothing much on my end too,” Toriel answers with a shrug. “Been doing the same same myself, although my same same I guess is a bit different from your same same.” She taps Asgore carefully on his shoulder with the bottom edge of her bottle. “What is your same same, by the way? Pray tell, what’s mundane to the Prince? Grand festivities? Meeting with powerful humans? A sea of princesses to court you?”

That last question sent a chill up Toriel’s spine. A chill of...anger?

//

“Not really.” Asgore drags his hand across the back of his neck as he exhales through his lips. “I’m awaken early when the sun rises for some meditation, then I dress myself-”

//

Himself?

“Yourself?” Toriel interrupts.

“Yeah.” Asgore meets Toriel’s eyes with a pair of perplexed ones. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because...”

Because…Because…

No… Toriel doesn’t actually know because…

Just slipped out of her, perhaps?

“Nevermind,” she says with a deflecting smile. “You dress yourself, and?”

A quiet second passes before Asgore begins again. “Breakfast, usually. Eggs, bread, the usual. Sometimes we get human food prepared as well. They have something called ‘bacon’ which is really delicious.”

Toriel cocks her head. “Bacon?” She’s never heard of that. “I’ve heard of baked corn, but not bacon.”

Asgore’s face lights up, as if he’s just discovered the secret to eternal life. “That’s...what it could be called, yes. Our head chef...she’s from another country. We hired her as a diplomatic culinary exchange. Must be her accent.” Asgore puts the neck of his bottle up to his mouth timidly. “Baked corn,” he says to himself before silencing himself with a sip.

“Is it something else than corn?” Toriel wonders with a circular motion of her hand, and by extension, her bottle.

“No,” Asgore taps two fingers on his lap, “it is corn.” He punctuates it with a distinct nod. “I’ve just been wondering why she’s called it bacon and not baked corn, like it is.”

“Reminds me of the time a patron walked in and asked where our cobbler were.”

Asgore’s brow hangs low at that.

“We don’t have any cobblers inside our tavern,” Toriel prefaces, after the fact.

Asgore nods.

“The patron did have the same look you just had when I said that we didn’t have any cobblers inside. At that, the patron pointed out the fact that we served soles. I corrected him in that we serve sowls, not soles. I had to almost push his face up to menu before he understood.”

//

She’s laughing.

Asgore should probably laugh too.

“That’s funny,” he adds after the laughter has died down a bit. “You must’ve had plenty of strange people coming into your tavern.”

Toriel casts a raised eyebrow Asgore’s way. “You don’t say.”

That’s fair. Can’t get stranger than the Prince disguising himself to woo a tavern maiden. Asgore should probably feel something about that, but the wine inside him is subduing whatever shame should pour over him.

He’s not against the notion.

//

“So yeah, after breakfast?”

Toriel’s almost forgot that she asked the question.

With a thoughtful nod, Asgore licks his lips. “It’s either training with Gerson, or studying with the Priestess.”

“Studying and training what?”

Asgore shrugs. “My magic.”

Yes! There’s the segue Toriel was prying for! She throws thumb down towards the end of the street. “Yesterday I heard the Town Criers spurt something about your magic.” Toriel takes a swig to raise a bit of suspense. “It’s improved in ways we could never believe?”

Asgore blinks for half a minute before putting his arm out. “I mean,” he says under his breath just before flexing his wrist. A red staff materializes, stopping in its growth as its end taps the ground. “It could be this?” Streaks of red lightning shoot up and down it with rapid hisses.

Toriel draws a long and impressed whistle. It becomes even longer when three small spears form at the top of the staff, manifesting together into a vicious trident that glows red like the early morning sun.

“Nice.”

//

A compliment?

//

“I can understand why the Town Criers were so eager to tell us all about it,” Toriel says while narrowing her eyes against the intense red glow. “Could you?”

“Oh! Sorry!” Asgore exhales calmly, and his trident calms as well. He opens one eye. “A bit more?”

“It’s fine now.” Toriel blinks a couple of times. “Just have to readjust a bit.” She rubs them a bit before concluding that it’s fine by now. “So, yeah, your magic.”

Asgore lifts his trident up gingerly. “My magic.”

“It’s impressive.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I hold it?” Toriel asks with her hands opened.

//

Can she?

Asgore’s never handed their magic over to someone else. Not even Gerson.

Will it even work?

Toriel’s touched his magic once before, so maybe she can do it again?

And if she’s gonna touch it…

Asgore focuses on his magic, strengthening the bond between him and it. It will keep the lightning that sometimes pops out of it from scaring her, and it’ll also…

//

Why is he blushing?

Toriel’s technically payed for his magic through her taxes, so it’s only fair that she gets to hold it for a bit.

She’s given other monsters her fire, both in friendly, and less than friendly ways, and not once has she blushed.

So why is he so hesitant about it?

//

Asgore swallows hard to prepare himself.

“I-I h-had to focus f-for it not to s-scare you with the lightning.”

Technically he isn’t lying.

He carefully hands the trident over to Toriel, who even more carefully takes it in her hands, and-

Her hands… They’re so smooth.

Asgore chokes on the feeling. It’s so strange, yet so, so comforting. A tender sensation, a careful rub with her thumb, like a warming caress from mother on a cold winter night. It’s all outside of Asgore though, yet he feels it inside of him. Each minute movement Toriel does on, and with, the trident, Asgore feels it in his soul. The wondrous curiosity, coupled with unknowing exploration. She moves her hands up and down his trident, his magic, his very being summoned from the depth of his soul. Himself manifest she caresses with care, and an unbearable will to know more.

No, not the tip, not yet!

//

What the hell is he doing squirming more than an earthworm in a hot skillet along with some oil? If he’s this timid about letting her touch his magic, she can just give it back to him and-

“No!”

Toriel recoils back. “Excuse me?”

“It-t-t-t’s fine,” Asgore says with a smile that’s even more unsettling than before as´he gently pushes his trident back into Toriel’s hand. She has no idea what kind of emotion he’s trying to show here. He shivers as she grasps it again. “Y-you can continue. I-I’ts f-fine, I swear.”

//

_Oh more than fine!_

//

Toriel’s not sure if she even wants to anymore. There’s this unsettling feeling running up her spine, like she’s not supposed to be doing this.

Why is she imposing class restrictions upon herself?

Blergh!

Anyways, there’s not really a lot more she can discover about the trident, bar the tips, but for some strange reason she’s not feeling eager to rub her finger against them anytime soon.

They look rather sharp.

Toriel hands Asgore back his trident, which he accepts after a moment’s hesitation.

“What can you do with it?”

Asgore clears his throats, and after it he licks his lips. “...A couple of things.”

Why is he making such a damn big deal out of Toriel just wanting to touch his trident?

//

Breathe in… Breathe out…

Calm down…

Calm down…

Asgore lets the feelings wash away from him. An empty void is left behind, but it is what it is. He needed it, by God did he need it. He might need it again later on, so perhaps…

Not now though, if he asks now she might get suspicious.

Asgore stands up. “I can do this.” He readjusts his grip on his trident, and swipes it in the air. A blue streak follows the trident. He switches his hands, and swipes the trident the other way, with an orange streak following it back.

Toriel’s brow furrows. “Do it again.”

Alright. Asgore again sweeps his trident back and forth.

“Do you know that your eyes spark when you do that?”

Asgore puts a scared hand up to his face. “They do?”

//

Is he trying to look at his own eyes?

Toriel nods. “Yeah, they do. Not a lot, but they do. It’s faint, but if you look for it.” She motions with her hand for Asgore to prepare himself again. “Do you think about which way you’re going to swipe before you do it?”

“Yeah, I do,” Asgore answers. “Is that when?”

“Yes, that’s when they seem to sparkle. Do it, and I’ll tell you which one lights up.”

“Alright...” Asgore again grabs his trident like he’s about to defend himself. His eyes spark. Blue, orange, blue.

“Blue, orange, blue,” Toriel informs just as Asgore begins. She’s right in her guess. Blue, orange, blue, and red.

His blushing face, that is.

“How?” he asks. “Is that what Gerson said about keeping my intentions silent?”

“Could be?” Toriel shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. Perhaps you should keep your eyes closed when you do it?”

“Guess so?”

Toriel suddenly feels a bit cold, like the sun’s disappeared. She turns her head over her shoulder to see that it has indeed disappeared. The stars should be visible any moment now. She beckons for Asgore to join her leaning over the overlook again.

“Now, prince,” Toriel says with coy as he bends his impressive weight so smoothly over the stone barrier, “you said something about the human constellations?”


	16. Balls of flaming gas

“And that’s the last one. It’s a part of the first one I told you about, so if you find the first, you find the other pretty easy.”

Toriel draws the figure Asgore described with her finger. Up, a bit down and to the left, then… Ah! There it is! “I think I found it,” she exclaims while throwing her arms up in success, almost spilling her drink in the process. “Funny, it’s almost the same as the one we get taught in school.”

“We have pretty similar culture to humans,” Asgore explains after a gentle swig, but not as gentle as a couple of minutes before. Might be starting to get to him, this wine. “It differs in a few ways, but it should mostly be familiar, I think. We’ll see next week how much I have to learn.”

Toriel loses track of the constellation Asgore just showed her as she swivels her head over to him. “A lot of learning going on with you.”

He shrugs. “I’m the Prince, after all. I have to learn everything so that I can know everything, and lead us to a prosperous future.”

One more swig finds its way down his throat.

“One time when Gerson was schooling me in advanced tactics he scolded me for stabbing the map with my knife.”

Toriel halts the neck of her bottle just an inch away from the furrowed expression stretching over her face. “Why did you do that?” she asks with a borderline disgusted tone to her words.

Asgore sends over a small shrug while bending his lips into a quick frown. “It just felt like the right thing to do. Felt powerful, punctuated my orders. The entire table flinched as I burrowed the entire blade into the wood.” He stretches his arm out, and throws his bottle in a downwards motion. As he stops it, a pair of drops jump out from the opening. “You have your orders, now execute them!” The drops hits another monster further down the wall on the head. It looks up to see if it’s about to be rain.

Asgore brings back the bottle towards his mouth, “Anyways,” and takes a swig of the sweet wine he brought for him and Toriel. “I had to confess what I did to the monster who’d spent months drawing it up. She said it was fine, but I could see tears forming in her eyes.”

“The least you could’ve done, in my opinion.” Toriel swirls the bottle in her hand for a few seconds before resorting to tapping the bottom her other arm resting flat on the chiseled stone of the, to her, and Asgore, leg high hand rail. “Now that you’ve said it though. It must’ve felt great when you did it.”

“Oh yeah!” Asgore nods so hard that he loses control of the bottles against his lips. He catches some that pours out with his hand, but the rest seeps into his beard, making it sticky and dropping like hang drying clothes at the bottom of it.

Toriel’s hand is way too small to hide her amused chuckle. She removes the handkerchief from her girdle and hands it over to Asgore again. He dries his beard of, and gives Toriel her handkerchief back along with his thanks. She fastens it at her side once more.

“You said Gerson, right? I’ve heard a lot about him. He’s the leader of the Royal Guard, right?”

“He is, and he is my physical tutor. It’s to keep me on level with the humans, is his excuse.”

That’s… “That’s a rather tall order for him to expect you to match a human.”

Asgore taps the bottom of his bottle against the stone barrier as his face drags into a mix of pain and tiredness. “Yeah...” He puts the bottle up to his lips, “It is,” and tilts it carefully up.

“And you do this every morning?” Toriel feels her hand move up her torso. It grabs her collar, and she feels that she has to keep it there. “Every morning...of every day?”

“I do.” Asgore sighs, tilting his head forward in the process. His mane sways as if it were seaweed underneath a rolling wave. “I get pushed to my limits every day, because my limits will never be enough to stand up against a human.”

Toriel’s eyes shift towards Asgore’s arm. The brief moment she held it, she felt how absolutely rock solid it was. No wonder she’s never felt someone with arms like those, because no one else has had their limits pushed every single day. How it tenses the fabric of the robe as he bends his arm up to drink…

Asgore stops mid drink, and his eyes widen.

He must’ve felt Toriel’s blush as well through her aura. It’s come to that point now, hasn’t it? Toriel looks down at her wine. Only half gone, and already she’s slipping with her aura. Well, half a Royal Purple is nothing to scoff at, and this Royal Purple is more royal than anything else available, and not available.

“A-and your magic?” Toriel asks while attempting to calm her aura down. “Same thing there?”

“If it wasn’t for that I would’ve never been able to handle more than a week’s worth of Gerson. It’s exhausting in its own way, but it helps me recuperate.” Asgore puts up his hand in the air. He flicks his wrist, and a colorful ball of fire forms in his hand. He lets it grow for a moment before throwing it nonchalantly in the air and letting it peter out into a sigh. “The parade...it was my time to finally spread the wings of my efforts.”

“Sorry...”

Toriel knows where this is heading.

“Don’t be.”

Or not?

She turns her head back quickly, with her ears flopping behind. Asgore offers a warm smile. Burning, almost.

“You have no idea how much being here feels for me. It wasn’t pleasant what you did to me at the parade, but what it led to is a comfort I’ve never had in my entire life.” Asgore drags a deep breath through his nose. If he’d used his mouth as well Toriel would fear that he would steal her air as well. ”Here, with you, I’m not a prince,” Asgore says in almost a laughter as he exhales. “I’m just...normal? The only obligation I have here is talking, and enjoying wine and company. It’s...nice. Thank you, Toriel.”

Toriel waves her bottle. “Can’t say no to free wine, now can I?”

The deflection is louder than a sword’s glancing blow against a church bell, but Asgore lets it slip right past him.

“Lately though, what Gerson has demanded out of me has become...well...demanding, even for him. He says it is the last tempering before I travel away for my mission with the humans, but what he asks of me...” Asgore shakes his head violently, his ears smacking hard against his forehead. “It’s impossible!”

Again his red trident fills the immediate area with a solemn red glow. “I’m supposed to hit something with nothing but a whiff of a connection through a dust storm? That’s not something even my father would be able to!” Asgore throws the bottom of his trident down into the ground, driving it into the ground as cracks slither out from the impact. “If a king can’t, then how can a prince?”

Toriel recoils back from the dark shadow cast over Asgore’s eyes.

“How can I...”

His muzzle tightens into a conflicted scowl.

“I’m...”

His trident fades away from his hand.

“I’m sorry… I just said that I was to not think about being a prince, yet,” Asgore glances down at the hole he just created, “I do this.” He sighs with a heave that’s almost as certain to drive his feet down into the ground as well. “It’s just… It’s my life. I can’t escape it, even when I want to.”

Asgore’s head turns with sorrow up to the castle. The stars above glimmer in the single tear forming in his eye. “Even when I manage to escape it, it still looms above me. Like miasma, it surrounds me every single moment. It makes the few moments I’ve managed to emerge from it so intoxicating.”

Toriel’s eyes move down at Asgore’s almost empty bottle at the word ‘intoxicating’. Might not have been the best word to use here. She shakes the thought away as Asgore falls down heavy onto the stone bench with his arms stretched out behind him.

Almost...inviting… If not, then perhaps she should invite herself? She wouldn’t mind knowing how it would feel like resting her head on that chiseled arm of his.

Toriel jumps a bit closer, but not close enough for Asgore to notice. Not for now, that is.

Speaking of not noticing, Toriel hasn’t yet noticed herself getting annoyed with Asgore’s lamenting. Normally her eyes begin to roll almost instantly when the guards saunter theirs late at night at the tavern and begin mumbling their sorrows over their clean and full tankards that swiftly gets dirtied up, alongside the slates they speak.

Asgore though.

Toriel feels the weight that’s on his shoulders, at least a small part of it. Stranger, she feels she want to hear more of it. Not that she wants him to cry, but that she wants to feel his emotions. She’s curious about them.

Maybe a bit about her own as well.

Indulge in them for a bit?

She jumps a bit closer to alleviate the weights on his shoulders.

Yes.

“Sounds like being a prince isn’t what it sounds to be,” Toriel says with a small chuckle in an attempt to raise Asgore’s spirit currently residing in the deepest of mines. “What was that about humans, again? You’re off to meet them?”

Asgore nods while keeping his eyes locked up the castle. “I am.” His bottle has to travel a long way as Asgore swings his arm to drink, before leaning it back on top of the stone barrier behind him. Toriel jumps in a bit closer. “A diplomatic travel to discuss border disputes between two of the human nations. I’m to be there as an independent party.”

“Party? As in-”

“No,” Asgore interrupts with a stoic shake of his head. “But I wish.” Asgore exhales with a lesser growl. “It’s gonna be quite the opposite, I reckon. It’s the reason I’ve had to study and train doubly for the time being, and it’s probably gonna ramp up further as the day draws closer.”

Toriel skips just a bit more closer.

Asgore sounds like he needs her close right now to move over some more weight, and he looks quite warm now that the sun’s gone down for the night. She doesn’t want to catch a cold now that she has work tomorrow. Having a lot of wine in you heightens the risk of catching a cold, so Toriel should seek warmth where she can.

It’s for her own good, and also his.

Yes...good enough of an excuse.

Toriel desperately shakes away the notion that just a week or so ago she would rather die than be near the Prince. Now though, now that she’s near him? Now that she’s talked, drunk, and enjoyed his company? She… It’s such a strange feeling, and that it’s for the Prince makes it even stranger, but she feels that she owes him something, if just her being near him.

No, not even owe him, she wants to be closer to him. Just...to see what it feels like. Her curiosity is piqued. She jumps a bit closer, now sitting at the bend of his arm. He has yet to notice, but he sure will right now.

Toriel grabs Asgore’s forearm, and bends it over her shoulder. “I’m freezing,” she explains as his head spins around faster than a top being played with by an eccentric child.

“I s-see.”

“It’s not a problem for you that I borrow your arm for a bit?”

“N-no! Not a-at all.” Asgore waves his bottles firmly grasped in his other hand. “I only n-need one hand to drink, after all? Right?”

And now he’s frozen. What a lot of good Toriel’s warming did.

Toriel can’t help but giggle again.

“If you don’t relax your arm you’re gonna strangle my neck, Prince.”

Is she giving him a hard time by calling him ‘Prince’?

Yes. Most certainly.

But…

“Better?” Asgore asks after calming his arm a bit. His relaxed bend settles in nicely around Toriel’s neck. Like a soft and secure pillow. She leans back onto it with a pleasant hum.

“Yes, thank you.”

//

Uh oh.

Asgore’s arm’s gonna fall asleep if she keeps her head on the bend of it like that!

But it’s not like he can just...

//

“Can I ask you something, Asgore?” Toriel jumps a bit further towards Asgore so that she’ll be closer to the truth now that she’s gonna ask for it. “Why did you decide to come look for me after the parade? Also,” she interrupts before Asgore can answer, “why did you come look for me as you did, and not for ruining your parade?”

Good as a time as any to ask that. It’s been nibbling at Toriel for a while, and now that she’s a bit…a bit more than a bit intoxicated, it feels like the right time to ask.

“I’m just a girl working at a tavern, what do I have that the Prince wants? What can I give you that other princesses can’t?”

Asgore’s brow sinks low as he realizes that he has to choose his words very carefully now.

His answer comes after a long minute of thinking.

//

How is Asgore supposed to think when his arm is about to snore louder than cannon fire?

Maybe...maybe just don’t think. Tell the truth of how he feels?

//

“L-like I said, you help me forget that I’m the Prince.”

“So it’s just because I’m a commoner?” Toriel shoots back just to be annoying.

“No!” Asgore tries to put up his hand to help punctuate how much no he means, but with Toriel leaning her head on his arm, it’s not going anywhere. “It’s not that! It’s...it’s...” Asgore’s neck cranes back. “How do I put this?”

Toriel refreshes her mouth with some more wine in the meantime. He’s earned some time to think, she feels.

For now though, she’s gonna inch her neck further into the bend of his warm arm and see if she can’t find any more of those human constellations he talked about.

Let’s see.

//

It BURNS!

Like a million ants are dancing across the entirety of Asgore’s arm! He can barely flex his fingers!

He’s not gonna move his arm though. Not for an entire kingdom.

He’s never seen someone so content as Toriel is now.

Her ears lay heavy on his arm, the warmth from them subduing the pain from the ants. Each tiny movement of her neck is like fine silk being dragged against Asgore’s fur. It’s not ticklish, but the warm afterglow that would follow a tickle, without the actual tickle.

Everything good about being tickled, with none of the downsides.

And with each slight turn of her neck it moves and caresses his arm, with her ears sweeping across his fur like a warm summer breeze across a field of mature wheat.

“Eager virgin?”

Asgore flinches, almost knocking his arm out of his shoulder socket with Toriel’s head proving heavy enough for his arm to be fastened like a tightened ferrule.

“S-s-s-sorry?” he asks back.

Toriel points up into the sky with her finger. “The eager morning virgin olive branch? That one human constellation you told me about? How many stars in its second fruit did it have again?”

Uuuuuhhh…. “Three,” Asgore answers after a second or two, his mind burning more energy on that question than he would ever do an entire magic session.

“Ah!” Toriel exclaims as she leans her head forward. “I see it!”

Asgore takes the small time frame given to him, and shakes his arm loose of the ants before quickly shoving his arm back into position for Toriel to lean her head back down on. She doesn’t land as gracefully as she could’ve, and Asgore’s forced to grit his teeth against the impact.

Thankfully though it fades away quick, and the warmth of Toriel’s neck and ears helps to alleviate the pain. Asgore breathes out, and takes a swig of his wine to alleviate further.

//

“Are constellations important in human culture?” Toriel asks after some quiet minutes of her finding more of them. She drags her hand across the sky. “Do they like...” She gives her wrist a twirl. “I don’t know, predict the future in them?”

“No, not really,” Asgore answers after taking the bottle away from his mouth. “I mean, they use them to keep track of important days, but if you’re talking about predictions as in superstition, then not a lot of that nowadays. It was quite important before, which motivated the humans to invent better tools for observing the night sky.”

Fascinating.

“I’m learning them mostly to make a connection with the humans. To find common ground, but in the sky. Something along those lines.”

“Ah, I see.”

Toriel returns to her star gazing. They’re starting to become a bit...blurry. She glances down at her bottle again.

Oh, guess that explains it. Just a large swig left.

Might as well make it empty.

//

How the hell can she do that?

//

Toriel quells a burp.

“I’m a bit jealous of you having magical training, by the way.” She rolls her head over to Asgore with a pair of raised eyebrows. “Some of us have to work for years to get enough money to pay for University, you know?”

“It’s because-”

“I know what it is because,” Toriel interrupts. “It’s just...that I’m jealous of it. That’s all.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do, since you’ve never worked an actual work your entire life.” Toriel retracts her scowl. She didn’t mean it to sound as harsh as it did. She offers a warm smile. “I appreciate you making the effort though, Asgore. So thanks.”

“Do you have a lot left until you can go to University? Do you need any-”

“No!” Toriel interrupts again. This time she did mean it to be harsh. “I need to do it myself. It’s my own goal, and I need to do it myself.” She exhales a sigh. “I want to feel that it’s all because of my own hardship that I managed. Prove to myself that nothing can be in my way. That I can climb any mountain as long as I put my back into it. That a low commoner such as I can show the most prestigious of characteristics!”

//

Low commoner? Is that what she thinks of herself?

Well...it certainly isn’t what Asgore thinks of her.

//

“So yeah.” Toriel lifts up her bottle, only to remember that it’s empty, and lowering it back down with a disappointed sigh. “Thanks, but no thanks, Asgore. I want to make it on my own.”

“That’s an admirable goal, Toriel.”

“Enough to impress even the Prince?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“So even a commoner’s ambition’s can be big enough for royalty to find impressive?”

“That’s your view, though.”

“Not yours?”

“Why would it be?”

“You’re the Prince.”

“I’m not the Prince here. Or at least I try not to be.”

“So when you come back to the castle, will you think differently?”

“I’m still the same person.”

“But not the Prince?”

“But not the Prince.”

“So you can just turn off the Prince?”

_Burp_

“Enough of a proof, Toriel?”

“So that’s your view of us common folk? Burping to prove a point?”

“I burped to prove this particular point. You’re the one assuming I do for all other as well.”

“Only proof I have at hand.”

“Only proof you call proof.”

“So what would be some other proof?”

“The wine you’ve been drinking?”

“Perhaps.”

“The human constellations?”

“Maybe.”

“Me inviting you to train with me in the castle?”

“Could work.”

“Sometime next week?”

“Just tell me the day before.”

“Sure.”

“You gonna sneak me in?”

“I’ll figure out a way.”

“Am I not good enough for the front door?”

“You were the one that spat at it and blew raspberries.”

“And you were the one sneaking out of the castle.”

“How else could I give you the wine you asked for?”

“And how could I have known that you would bring Royal Purple?”

“Because I turned off the Prince.”

**God dammit!**

He got her!

She’s not gonna let him win though. His burp should’ve been cleared from his mouth with the amount of talking he’s done.

Time to end this!

Toriel runs her arm up Asgore’s. Up his shoulder, and behind his neck. She tugs a sinister smile, and drags his head down to hers.

The back of her neck tingles as the fur on his arm tenses up, and her lips split into a smile on his as she connects the two.

That shut him up.

“I win.”

She lets Asgore go as she stands up.

“Sorry to leave you in the cold, Prince, but I’m sure you won’t notice it since you’re aura would’ve ignited the bench if it was made out of wood.” Toriel runs her finger across his cheek to see if it’ll be enough for the stone to melt. “See you later, my Prince.”

//

Did she win?

Asgore touches his cheek.

It’s burning like a thousand suns.

No...no she didn’t.

//

Toriel’s door is flung open as she staggers inside. It takes a while for her to get the lock in place, but when it does, she again resumes her staggered walk while cheering herself.

She flops down on her bed in a tired slur.

This night was really-

But before her head can touch her pillow it shoots up wide awake. Completely sober, completely alert.

With one question screaming in her head.

What the hell did she agree on?

//

Asgore heaves himself in through the window, stumbling down on the floor with less grace than his grace should’ve. He clutches his head. It’s been pounding the entire way back to the castle.

Water.

He fumbles for the jug as even the faintest of light stings his eyes, and drinks deeply.

Like a recently melted rapid, the water is thrown across Asgore’s room as only a single drop of water was enough for his mind to hear what it’s been screaming the entire way up.

What the hell did he offer Toriel?


	17. Chill after the fire

The back door of the tavern is knocked on with a heavy fist. “Delivery,” a voice outside it informs with vigor.

It’s a good thing the bar is empty at this moment, otherwise Toriel would’ve had to, at the very least, clean the entirety of it. The volume of whomever it was knocking would’ve caused every single monster to spill their drinks.

For now the only drink that was spilled was the empty one Toriel had in her hand. She squats down to pick it up.

With a few rubs of her towel it’s like she never dropped it. “Delivery? At this hour?” she asks out loud in an attempt to make sense of it.

It is way too late for vegetables, and way even later for bread. What could it be? Toriel’s boss looks up from the kitchen with his long ears inquisitively bent behind his head. “Delivery? At this hour?” he asks as well.

Toriel shrugs her shoulders as she makes her way to the back door. Her hands wrap around and throughout the towel she’s carrying. “No idea,” she answers as she leans her head on the window to try and catch a peek. “Could be-”

“Could be who?” Toriel’s boss tries to pry, but as he turns his head, he’s discovered that Toriel’s turned to stone. Won’t be prying a lot out of her at this moment. “Toriel?” he asks to try to bring her back to an animated state.

The back door is knocked on again, this time harder.

“Royal Delivery!” shouts a commanding voice from outside.

Toriel’s boss’ ears perk upright, and he scrambles up the stairs from the kitchen. With glee in his step he saunters over to the door to open it.

“No.”

He opens the door with his perplexed head swiveled back towards Toriel. His furrowed brow is so focused that he doesn’t notice three Royal Guards rolling, and placing upright, three barrels of Royal Purple next to him. One of them halts in her step as she spots two barrels already in place, but she just shrugs to her colleagues about it. The three guards head outside again.

“Three barrels of Royal Purple,” informs a fourth Royal Guard with a scroll opened between his disinterested hands. “To be delivered to the newest Royal Supplier. As a gratitude and congratulation, these three barrels will be provided free of charge. The following will be sold at market value, barring any special taxation that may be imposed should any future reasons demand it. Understood?”

The Royal Guard nods.

He extends the scroll a bit further downwards while producing an ink dipped feather for Toriel’s boss. “Sign here, please.”

Toriel’s boss turns his head back. “Right.” He takes the feather and with a few rough twirls of his wrist he denotes his name on the parchment before returning the feather.

The Royal Guard dries the feather off on a piece of rag hanging at his belt. “Thank you for your service to the crown...” The guard narrows his varicolored eyes on what Toriel’s boss’ sloppy handwriting wrote. “Kyliama?”

“Krygino,” Krygino corrects.

“Thank you for your service to the crown, Krygino,” the guard says again with a deep bow. “Do not worry about making orders in the future. We will know when you’ll be needing more. The payment will be added upon your next taxation.”

He leaves with the scroll underneath his arm. At the mouth of the alley, he joins up with two of his fellow Royal Guards, and together they disappear into the crowd.

Barring the feathers on the top of their helmets.

Krygino closes the door with a very conflicted look on his face. “I’m not sure if he meant it to sound as a threat when he said that we shouldn’t worry about making orders in the future, but it sure did sound as one.” The conflict on his face is swiftly washed away as he leans back unwittingly onto one of the barrels that the guard helped roll in.

“It’s good that they came though. We were scraping the bottom of the last barrel on the two that came before.” Krygino pats the side of the new barrels. The lack of echo and wobble from his gleeful smack pleases him even further, and his long ears start to vibrate in excitement. “They weren’t kidding about knowing when we were to be needing more. Not really sure how I should feel about that, to be honest.”

The lack of response from Toriel has him worried though.

“Toriel?”

But she’s still stuck with her cheek pushed against the glass of the window, and with her hands tugging harshly at the towel in her hand.

Royal Purple…

It’s been almost a week now since last time. Does he still plan on asking Toriel? What is she gonna answer? Is she gonna answer?

“Toriel?”

She flinches as Krygino places his calm hand on her elbow. He retracts his hand worryingly. “How’re you feeling, Toriel? You seem pale.”

As if that’s even possible considering the color of her fur.

“I’m...I’m fine.”

She does sound pale though. Come on, girl! Get a grip! Take some calm breaths.

“You were all sunshine and rainbow just a week or so ago about Royal Purple, and now it’s like the barrels are filled with poison.” Krygino tries desperately to catch Toriel’s eyes, but she keeps evading hers. “What is it, Tori?”

“It’s nothing,” she answers while looking off to the side. “It’s just that the guard sounded threatening, that’s all.”

Krygino isn’t buying that. Buying it less than he did these three barrels, even. “I’m not buying that,” he says with a low tone to his voice. “I’m not even buying it for less than I did these three barrels. The first sample being free is...”

His ears again flop down behind him, and he turns around to jump up on the new barrels.

“The first sample is free...” he repeats.

The first sample of three barrels are free.

But what about the first sample of two barrels they got for free before?

Krygino turns his head slowly over his shoulder. “Toriel?” he asks with a voice that’s understanding at face value, but accusing underneath. “How did we get the first two barrels?”

//

“Alright, Asgore, that’s enough for now.”

Before Gerson has time to finish his sentence, Asgore collapses onto his knee. His trident which he uses as support as to not slump down onto the dirt below starts fading.

No!

Asgore grunts hard as he flexes his wrist. The trident’s form strengthens, and he pushes more weight down on it in an attempt to stand up.

Gerson’s arms cross as he observes the Prince tapping into the very last of his reserves.

Asgore manages up on his shaking knees, but for that he’s forced to take focus away from his magic. It again starts to fade.

No!

He tenses his arm against it.

No.

But the trident continues to fade.

No…

Barely visible through the sweat running across Asgore’s vision.

N...o…

The trident peters out of its tired existence, and a moment later, Asgore’s body lands hard on the even harder ground. He coughs from the impact, and his body curls up into itself.

“You’re strong, Asgore,” Gerson offers warmly as he squats down next to the fallen Prince. “But you have to get up. You still got an hour left. It’s imperative that you continue, and finish your training. You know what’s at stake, Prince. Now up with you.”

A silent response trickle out of Asgore’s mout. “I...I...” He loses his breath just trying to speak. He can’t. No more, he can’t. Too much today. He’s been pushing himself for hours on end, with none in sight. “...Can’t,” he finally finishes, only to be viciously attacked by a desperate need for air. His vision blurs even more as his sharp and greedy breaths echo throughout the training yard. With each gulp he drags in him the cloud of dust around him, further worsening his need for air. It’s all he can do though, but it’s not something he can suffice.

“Prince,” Gerson repeats as he puts a hand on Asgore’s shoulder, “you have to stand up.” He rolls Asgore over on his back. The blazing sun gazes straight down on Asgore’s face. Even through his tightly closed eyelids he still feels it burning into his skull.

“This is when your soul and magic is most moldable,” Gerson explains through the haze in Asgore’s head. “You’re broken, hence you’re the most desperate to heal. Through that we can steer your soul. If you stay down, then that’s how your soul will respond in the future. It will lay down defeated. It will treat adversary as something to fear, something that will lead to defeat. You have to stand up, Asgore. You have to rage against the defeat. You must teach your soul that defeat won’t be an option. That broken isn’t where you lose. Broken isn’t where you fall! It’s where you rise, boy!”

“I’m more than broken,” Asgore says before dragging another desperate breath to quench himself.

“Then you’ll rise further!” Gerson takes a step over Asgore’s shaking body. “Potential is nothing if you only use it to fall further down, Prince!” He bends down to grab Asgore by the collar. “Your future people will know nothing of your potential if you don’t show them any!”

Asgore coughs. Each hackle burns like fire in his throat, and he can only grit against the pain so much before he starts to lose the sensation of touch in his mouth.

His head is at the same time heavier than he could ever imagine, and lighter than his wildest imagination. It hangs as if it’s a flag raised but without any wind to support it.

“I’m your future people, Asgore.” Gerson wrings Asgore’s head closer to his. “Show me your potential.”

With a desperate tug, Asgore leans his head up. His lips bend and curl into a myriad of emotions, each weak, each just barely visible. Gerson keeps his eyes focused on each minute movement, searching for the faintest spark that he can fan back into the roaring fire he seeks in Asgore’s soul. Each time Asgore’s lips move though, the more Gerson’s are dragged into a disappointed scowl.

“The day we’ve trained together for is closing in, Asgore.”

His exhausted body lands heavily back on the ground as Gerson lets go of Asgore’s collar.

“It’s closing in faster than you can recover, and that’s not gonna cut it. It’s clear that you won’t be able to reach what you need to reach in time, so I’m going to halt your physical training for the time being.”

Through the pain and shock from hitting the ground, Asgore thinks himself hear something in Gerson’s voice.

“I will arrange for more lessons on you perfecting your magic and soul. More human studies to compensate. Perhaps you’ll find something to push you further from there. The level I envisioned for you is a threshold, and if you’re not gonna cross it, then it will be wiser to strengthen you in ways other than physical. I’m not happy with this development,” Gerson sighs as he puts his hands behind his back, “but I’ve planned for this too. A contingency plan, in case you...”

Gerson looks over his shoulder. To his life’s work drawing painful breaths while flat on his back. An exhausted body that’s almost whimpering, and probably will once Gerson leaves the room. His life’s work, not standing tall and proud, but laying broken and pathetic.

“You will be studying more intensely to make up for the threshold you’ve missed. I’ll inform your tutor in diplomatic and human studies about our development, along with the priestess. What she decides to is up to her, but I will be offering my thoughts on how we should proceed.”

There it is again. Just barely audible. Asgore can barely hear what Gerson is saying through his sharp breathing, but this he can hear like lightning on a cloudless day.

“Paperwork has never suited me, but it’s what I’ll be doing until the day of your travel, Asgore. You won’t be seeing me until then, and I won’t you. We will continue your physical improvement after you’ve returned, Asgore.”

Louder than a scream. It’s louder than a scream! Asgore tilts his head up, despite it hurting him more than anything else he’s felt in his entire life. Gerson meets his eyes with his own, but quickly averts them.

He opens the door leading out the training yard.

“Until then, Prince.”

It still hangs after he’s closed the door. Like an ominous cloud.

Fear.

//

“A signing down bonus?”

Toriel instantly regrets her choice of words.

“Y-y-yeah,” she says while scratching the side of her cheek. It does little to improve her case, and might in fact be detriment to it. “T-they didn’t want f-for me to leave empty handed, in a way. They c-couldn’t have a Royal Supplier without Royal Purple, now could they?”

Krygino’s eyes harden, and he leans forward as he sits on top of one of the full barrels. “Is that so?”

Toriel nods a bit too eagerly.

“You are telling me the truth here, Toriel?” Krygino pries accompanied with an eyebrow raised even harder than his stare. It could knock even Gerson out should it have hit him.

Toriel pausing is enough for her to realize that she’s caught. Her head lowers as her muzzle starts quivering. “Y-yes,” she still says. “I am.”

Krygino looks over his shoulder at the two empty barrels behind him. His ears angle themselves wildly as he mumbles quietly to himself. Up in anger, down in disappointment, up in forgiveness, down in worry, up in confusion, down in lament, up in-

They finally flop down over his back as he drags a deep sigh with his hand pushed hard against his face. “Toriel...I...” His hand clasp together over his mouth as his eyes stare into a horizon that isn’t there.

“I-”

Krygino puts up a hand harsher than Toriel’s ever seen. “Don’t say anything for now.”

Toriel’s shaking hand finds comfort on her other arm, but it’s not a lot. Like the flicker of a candle in the middle of a midwinter snowstorm. She shudders as the cold of it runs the entire length of her back.

“You two- Oh...” Jyuona leans herself back out into the tavern again.

A silent couple of minutes hang in the storage room. From the tavern, Toriel can hear Jyuona taking orders.

Her hand squeezes her arm.

“Thank you,” she whispers inaudibly to her best friend. Maybe she’ll hear it...

What would happen if Toriel just confessed? How would Jyuona and Krygino react if Toriel told them that she was seeing the Prince?

An invisible hand catches her heart, squeezing it tightly. It takes away all of her strength, and Toriel leans clumsily back onto the window sill. She bends over while drawing a sharp gasp through her clenched teeth.

Why?

A wave of guilt runs through the entirety of her body. Slithering up her spine, and out her mouth as a hard choke. She coughs from the pain of it, almost as if she’s punishing herself for what she was about to do.

Why is she herself against telling her best friend and boss about Asgore and her? She would trust both Jyuona and Krygino with her life! They were the ones that helped Toriel get back up on her feet! She’s trusted them with things that shouldn’t even be close to telling them that she’s seeing someone. If she were to, it would put even more stress on Asgore, and if its been getting worse like he said it would, the last thing he needs is for Toriel to prance about loudly proclaiming what the two of them are doing.

“Oh…”

Toriel’s face freezes.

So that’s how it is.

Her head lowers down as her confliction washes over her once more.

She drags a hurtful sob. “Dammit.”

She’s putting him above the others…

“You did go to the castle and brought back the sign extension,” Krygino reminds himself after another quiet and tense minute. “That we have proof of. Was there a delivery that night? That when we got the two barrels and the certification of order?”

Toriel nods.

At the very least, technically she isn’t lying about that.

“I see.” Krygino drags a long inhale. He exhales it over his shoulder, as if trying to not have it hit Toriel. His aura is speaking what his mouth could never say though, and it’s why Toriel’s cowering like a scared child.

It’s not anger flourishing in his soul.

It’s disappointment.

“Why did you return to the tavern after finishing your shift? The delivery wasn’t until after I’d closed up for the night, so it must’ve been way later.” Krygino’s eyes shoot over to Toriel, piercing through her like a lance thrust by a human knight on a galloping horse. “Why did you come back that night?”

“I...” Toriel swallows hard. “I f-forgot my sandwich. Didn’t r-realize until I came h-home and sat down to eat it.” She drags a smile. It takes a lot from her to not make it uncomfortable. Almost her entire being. “T-then I found the guards rolling up the barrels to the door.”

“Did you ask them why they were delivering at that late an hour?”

“N-no.” Toriel squeezes her arm again while her chin rubs her shoulder. “I just wanted my sandwich...”

Krygino’s head bob slowly as he thinks. His eyes move over to Toriel on occasion, but they glance off her almost instantly, almost as if he’s forcing them to. Dragging them away as he tries to convince himself that she’s speaking the truth.

It damn well takes a toll on him to do so.

To Toriel, an eternity passes as Krygino’s face contract into a myriad of expressions and emotions.

One emotion lingers throughout though.

Fear.

“I didn’t steal them, I swear,” Toriel pleads in a desperate attempt to banish it from Krygino’s face.

But it lingers.

Dammit…

It lingers...

“I trust you,” Krygino says after jumping down from the barrel he’s sitting on. His smile is as wide as always, but the aura around him speaks the opposite. He lets his smile warm up the rest of his aura, but it takes a bit of time for it to soften up like his puffy cheeks.

His calm hand pats Toriel’s arm. “I trust you, Toriel,” he repeats. “Now, let’s get back to work. I don’t think Jyuona will be able to handle the lunch rush herself. I’ll comp a bit on her tab as thanks for what she did just now.”

As Krygino’s hand slips off Toriel’s arm though, she feels his finger tighten over her fur. He doesn’t grab anything, but Toriel can feel the fingers curl together amid her fur.

Her eyes move over to the cases of Royal Purple.

A wave of worry washes over her as Krygino and Jyuona flashes in her head.

Another wave of worry washes over her instantly after as Asgore flashes in her head.

Which one does she feel the most sick from?

She...she doesn’t know.

And that scares her.

“Toriel?”

She drags a long and unstable inhale. “Yes, Jyuona?”

Jyuona carefully nods inwards to the tavern. “I have to get to work now. I did all I could, but-”

“It’s fine, Jy,” Toriel answers.

Jyuona can clearly tell that it is not. “I can come over once I’m done if you want to talk, Tori,” she offers as a friend. A best friend. “Not even talk if you don’t want to, just listen. You’ve done that for me, so it’s my turn to give it back to you.”

“I’m...” Toriel’s teeth clench together. No, she can’t say that she’s fine. “Thank you, Jy. We’ll see.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

Jyuona slowly lets herself away from the door.

“Yeah, see you.”

//

“Tomorrow.”

The last thoughts before Asgore drifts off into an exhaustive sleep.

“Tomorrow I have to see her.”


	18. Feeling the ashes

Asgore lifts his head carefully from underneath his hanging hood. He peeks just enough for his muzzle to stay hidden underneath the dark fabric. The backdoor to Toriel’s tavern is still closed shut, and he sees no movement through the window.

His entire body heaves up and down as he drags a calming inhale that makes its way throughout the houses looming above him as if they’re bending over to judge him.

The Prince standing in the trash behind a commoner’s tavern.

The houses can judge all they want.

Asgore’s not gonna let them detract him from seeing her.

The exhale echoing inside the alleyway is rugged, as the inhale gave Asgore’s body enough clarity to remind him of how stiff his entire form is from yesterday’s training.

It took way longer than he planned to to descend down to the tavern. Asgore had to stop multiple times to catch his breath. Never has he felt this exhausted, but it’s all for someone he’ll exhaust himself even more to get to. Such is gonna be the case when he heads back up to the castle again, and that he is not looking forward to.

If he even can look forward enough to imagine that. Asgore’s mind is still just short of hazy as the numerous lectures yesterday, as well as the even more numerous earlier today, continue to bounce around in his head as if dictated by overly excited Vulkins. Books, scrolls, lectures, more books, more scrolls, more lectures.

Asgore’s barely sure if he’s still a monster anymore after all the human culture and customs that’s been crammed inside of him these past two days. Food, magic, science, constellations, mingling, politics, and more that Asgore never believed he’d ever known. Any more and his soul is gonna become a human’s just by the sheer amount of exposure it’s had to their culture.

Maybe that’s what they’re trying to do to him? Make him as powerful as a human by learning their customs, and in turn, have his soul morph into that of a human’s.

Well, he has three or so days before he begins his travels, so the transformation is just around the corner.

It’s a good thing that Asgore’s head is so full and scrambled with human customs that he can’t be confused by the image of him waking up and walking up to his full body mirror to see a human staring back.

Right now he’s feeling disgusted by that image. Most likely a consequence of another human subject being added to the pile inside his mind.

Had he not been tired to hell and back he might’ve even had Toriel added to the image and-

A creaking sends a wave of surprise through Asgore, making him jump, despite his complaining body.

Is it Torie-

No, just a wheelbarrow passing by in the street.

Asgore leans his head back onto the wall of the building next to the tavern. He’d blow a tired raspberry if he wasn’t afraid of someone coming to check on the noise. He hasn’t the physical capacity to run away now, and even the thought of having to walk back up to his castle is making him sweat. He wouldn’t be able to figure out an excuse either. If he opens his mouth to speak to someone else he’d be slurring his words since his mind is so occupied.

Talking to Toriel is gonna be difficult enough even if Asgore’s mind was the blankest of slates.

Where is she?

What did she say again?

Asgore closes his eyes. It was just a couple of minutes ago, but he still feels that he has to focus.

He remembers entering the tavern and finding a seat next to the bar. Toriel spotted him immediately, but she didn’t walk over to him immediately. She had other customers. When she finally did walk over, what did she say again?

“Alleyway. Meet you in a bit.”

Was there anything else?

“Alleyway. Meet you in a bit,” Toriel’s voice repeats inside Asgore’s head, as well as some wild gesticulations.

No, nothing else. Nothing else that Asgore can find within the disorganized pile of jumbled traditions and proper fork etiquettes prancing about in his head.

And Asgore’s been standing in the cleanest...least filthy spot, ever since. Rounded the corner instantly and falling back on his shoulders against this wall that’s gonna have a tired Prince shaped dent in it when he eventually pushes off it. If that eventually even arrives or if it turns into an eternity. What’s it been now? More than a while?

Did she forget?

Asgore’s hands clench at his arms.

No! She didn’t!

But why isn’t she here?

No… She didn’t…

Focus!

Focus on the offer you promised her!

Maybe you didn’t really mean it then, but you damn well mean it now! You need this! You need something to take your mind off, even if it’s just half an hour!

You deserve some time to yourself! Some time to recuperate and be a monster before you begin your travels to the humans. If it is as taxing as Gerson makes it out to be, Asgore is gonna need this more than he can imagine. She just has to come out so that the two of them can plan this!

Where is she?

//

“I’ll begin on the inventorying, Kryg!” Toriel shouts across the empty tavern hall while pointing towards the door to the backroom.

“I’ll give you a knock should I need you,” he shouts back with a friendly wave.

Toriel holds her thumb extended as she saunters in through the door. Once inside, she closes it behind her.

The sack of potatoes she falls down on almost becomes mashed as she lands heavily on it. Her hands run up her cheeks and temples, and she grabs a hold of her head.

“No...” she whispers. “No, not now.”

Her eyes glance over to the barrels of Royal Purple. She can still see Krygino sitting with his long ears bent behind him with eyes piercing right through Toriel. It’s almost as if some of his aura is still lingering. Toriel quickly averts her eyes as a sharp gasp escapes her. It stings her throat, almost like needles, and she swallows hard in an attempt to calm the pain.

It does the opposite.

Yesterday’s talk is still echoing inside her head. She could barely sleep last night because of the guilt pushing down on her as if her cover was made out of lead. Lead that glared hard on her. Lead that felt disappointed in her.

She can’t remember ever tossing and turning the way she did last night.

And now Asgore’s here…

The choice that was just in her head yesterday has been made manifest today.

Through the door to her left is the tavern, where Krygino is, believing Toriel to be doing inventory.

Through the door to her right is the alleyway, where Asgore is, believing Toriel to be on her way.

She sits between the two.

Why does she has to choose?

And she can’t blame anyone but herself.

But how can it be blame if the only thing she feels is hope for both? She wants to be with Krygino, but she also wants to be with Asgore.

It’s two different wants though, and she feels as strongly to both.

Love as family, or love as...love.

Krygino would understand. Toriel knows that. Yet, she doesn’t feel that. She trusts him, and she trusts Jyuona. She knows, yet she doesn’t feel.

And she’s feeling it with Asgore! She’s feeling that she wants to know more about him!

So what’s the right choice?

If one is wrong it means that the other is wrong too!

If she knows then she feels, yet if she doesn’t feel she can’t know!

So which one is right?

//

Wind?

Storm?

Asgore looks up, being very careful not to have his hood slip off. You know what, it’s best if he holds it in place with both his hands.

No, clear sky with not a single cloud in sight.

Asgore returns his head down and his arms crossing over his chest.

Strange…

//

Hopefully Krygino thinks Toriel’s massive sigh was about the inventory and not her debating whether to follow her soul, or her soul…

Toriel’s tired hand finds her even more tired forehead which it rubs even more tiredly. “Dammit.”

Well...the longer she decides to sit and feel sorry for herself, the bigger the risk that Krygino is gonna come through the door and find her not doing inventory and instead speaking with the Prince.

Toriel pushes herself up from the sack of potatoes.

At the very least, she’s inventoried that one.

//

The door!

There she is! Finally! Oh, how Asgore’s shoulders feel so light all of a sudden. He might drift away skywards if he doesn’t ground himself.

He’s here for a reason.

“Hello, Toriel.”

“Greetings, prince.”

“I...” Asgore coughs once into his fist. He needs some time to disperse the thoughts of human socks from his head before he can ask her. “I guess you remembered too that I offered you to train with me in the castle?”

Toriel nods. “Yes, I did.”

“Good.” Asgore nods as well. “Good.”

“Is that why you came down here again?”

“Yes.”

Toriel’s arms cross together over her chest as her head looks down in contemplation. Her finger comes up to scratch her cheek, but not much else in terms of movement happens for quite a while.

//

Back up to the castle again?

The fact that she isn’t completely disgusted by that notion is...strange. She doesn’t feel repulsed by it might be that it’s Asgore making the offer. He’s the Prince, after all. If anyone from that place would invite her, it would be him, right?

Toriel won’t answer that. Even if it is her own question.

Would she ponder it if he wasn’t the Prince?

Maybe? It would be a damn good insult to it if she and another could sneak inside and use the training grounds. Her taxes probably paid for it, after all, so it’s only fair that she gets to use it.

Toriel glances down at her hand. She opens it while flexing her wrist to summon a calm fire in her hand.

//

_Oh there it is again._

Her magic.

//

Could this be a chance to perhaps improve her own magic too? Prepare it for University? If anything, if she’s close to the Prince practicing his own magic she could pick some up through how his aura feels. Maybe? Toriel’s not sure. She feels that she wants to try though. She’d be spending more time with Asgore at the very least.

There’s something Toriel’s even more unsure about though.

How would she even be able to sneak in?

Well, Asgore’s been sneaking out of the castle plenty of times and he’s not been caught. Or at least, Toriel assumes as much seeing as he’s standing in front of her at all.

“You haven’t been caught sneaking out to see me?” she asks.

Just in case.

“No, I haven’t,” Asgore answers. “I have a plan figured out too. It won’t involve you scaling my tower as I’ve done to get to you, that I promise.”

He scales his tower?

“You scale your tower? On the outside?”

Asgore nods. “Yeah, how else would I get down?”

Good point.

“Up as well?”

“Yes, up as well.”

“I see.”

Toriel shoots a glance over her shoulder to see if Krygino has entered the storage room. Might be too late for her even if she did catch the handle just beginning to move, but still, she feels a bit more secure, if only a little.

“What...” Toriel drags a long inhale through her teeth. “What happens if we’re caught?”

“We won’t.”

He answered that a bit too quickly.

“You can’t be sure about that, Asgore.” Toriel lowers her head as the memory from yesterday makes itself aware again. Krygino and the Royal Purple. “You can’t be sure...”

“I can.”

Again, a bit too quickly.

“I’m the Prince,” Asgore continues with brimming confidence radiating from him like the midday sun. He should probably try and keep his aura calm so that no one else notices besides Toriel. “If I say that I need the training grounds for myself to work off some energy so that I’m focused for my diplomatic trip to the humans, then I’ll be left alone in said training grounds to work off some energy so that I’m focused for my diplo-”

“Yes, yes,” Toriel puts up her hands. “I get it.” Her hands lowers down immediately after though. “But what if-”

“The castle is going to be under complete lock down, meaning that any and all guards will be busy guarding various positions around the castle.”

But-

“This is the only thing I’ve been able to think of, Toriel.”

There’s that apologetic sorrow again. The way his muzzle just...transforms from confident to pained and burdened. This last week must’ve taken a toll on him. The shadow on his face is even deeper than it was when he talked about the castle before. Almost darker than the one cast by his hood, and more spread out. His fur looks gray, not glistening white.

“This mission I’m about to embark on, it’s bigger than I. I can feel it. How everybody is scrambling, have been scrambling, my entire life to prepare me.”

“Prepare you for what?” Toriel asks through her clenched fist softly touching her lips in an attempt to quell her trembling.

Asgore shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’ve asked my father about it, but he told me that he had the same when he grew up. It’s not true though, at least from the lack of evidence I’ve seen.”

“Evidence?”

“He’s worried.”

The King? Worried? “About you?”

“Yes, about my mission. About the humans, about my training, about me in general. If he had the same training I had he would just tell me to endure it, but he’s been quiet alongside mom about Gerson’s training and the rest of my schooling.”

“Could be that he’s just being a worried father? I know my dad was quite worried when he found out that I had found out that I could summon flames from my hands.” Toriel offers a warm chuckle. “We lived in a wooden house, so I understood why he was concerned.”

//

Her chuckle is like a warm breeze during winter.

Maybe she’s right? Maybe Asgore’s just tired from this week and sees worries wherever he looks, because that’s the only thing left inside him for him to see. If anything it further shows how much he needs to clear his head. How much he needs Toriel to come train with him for a while.

He needs to have a different look on training, at least for now. Otherwise he’ll just resent it in his mind, and all he’s done will have been for nothing.

“Toriel,” Asgore says carefully. He bites his tongue as he catches himself from almost ruining it instantly. “I’m not going to say that I need this, because I don’t want to force you to make a choice you don’t want to make. I don’t want pity, but I do want to invite you to train with me at the castle. It’s...”

Asgore shakes his head while a troubled scoff escapes his lips. “I almost said that I need this, again...” he admits while scratching his cheek. “And now that I’ve said it twice...” He sighs deeply. “Guess I’ve already said that I need it despite my best efforts not to.”

Toriel looks over her shoulder.

“I have to go back to doing the inventory, Asgore.”

No…

Did he-

“I-I have with me instructions for you, Toriel.”

Asgore’s shaking hand dives desperately inside his robe. He brings out a scroll that he holds out to Toriel.

//

Take it.

You want to.

Take it.

You want to do this.

It’s tough, yes.

You feel like you’re betraying Krygino and Jyuona by taking it.

But you also know that they would’ve wanted you to take it if they knew.

You’ll tell them in due time, but that time is not know.

You want this.

Take it.

Please.

//

She-

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Asgore.”

She took it…

And disappeared back into the door she came from.

//

How can this scroll weigh so heavy? It’s just a rolled up parchment, yet it weighs like metal in Toriel’s hand. So heavy it makes her arm shake.

Then her shoulder.

And eventually, her entire body.

Toriel slides down with her back pressed against the door. Her hand finds her head, which she grabs in between her fingers.

Tears dot her dress.

“I took it...” she whispers to herself.

“I took it,” she repeats while tensing the paper.

A smile grows on her lip.

She wants this.

Finally she knows, and finally she feels!

She wants to do this!

_Oh, what relief._

Toriel’s head rolls across her shoulder to the door leading to the tavern. She doesn’t feel that she’s betraying Krygino either.

It’s her choice, her own to make.

And it feels good that she made it.

Toriel's sigh is of a relief so light it can almost lift the entire tavern. She can’t help but chuckle too. Everything to let the worry just wash off of her.

Like sweat in the rain, just wash off Toriel.

She doesn’t even feel worried about doing the inventory. Krygino will understand. He’ll trust her.

Him too.

Finally Toriel trusts in him trusting her.

Such relief!

She’ll tell him the day after tomorrow about Asgore. Tell Krygino all about how she’s seeing the Prince. How she feels around him, how he feels around her. Jyuona as well. She ought to be there too. She can trust Krygino, she can trust Jyuona.

Oh it’s such a relief to feel that…

Toriel drags a quivering inhale, but not one out of worry, but of the complete opposite.

Her exhale is calm and collected.

Now, for the plan Asgore has devised.

Toriel feels excitement overwhelm her as she unrolls the scroll.

It drains immediately as she skims the instructions written.

“What. The. Hell?”

//

**Oh shit!**

Asgore freezes in the middle of the crowd just outside the castle. A couple of monster graze his shoulders, sending harsh looks back at him, but they are like thrown leaf on a boulder.

His instructions! He totally forgot!

She’s a she!


	19. Preparing the brazier

“Shouldn’t be that hard, right?”

Oh...dammit.

Toriel can’t even lie about that. Not even to herself.

She leans her head back over the bench’s backrest and heaves a weary sigh. Her head hangs back for a couple of moments as she thinks. Although, now that she does it, she realizes that it’s actually a horrible idea to do it.

Because thinking about this situation will just reveal even more about how terrible Asgore’s plan really is, so maybe thinking is a bad idea, come to think of it.

Toriel blows her lips through another sigh and bends her head back upright again. She fumbles her dress pocket for the scroll Asgore gave her. With eyes that are almost glazing over each word as her brain refuses to make sense where there’s clearly none she ogles each sentence.

It’s just...dumb. Stupid. Idiotic. Dumb. Stupid. And also stupid dumb. Should Toriel follow these steps she’d stumble and snap both her ankles before she even knew it.

The scroll bends over as Toriel blows yet another sigh through her loose lips. Any more of those and her throat will follow along the sigh. As much as she appreciates the excuse not to be able to read the crazy instructions further, she flicks it back upright again.

She was crazy enough to agree to this, so joke’s on her.

“Begin by sneaking past the guards behind the castle,” she reads to herself.

Yeah, sure. Easiest step first there, Prince.

Especially since it’s almost an entire ring full of the shiny armored dogs surrounding the place!

Not to mention the rest of the steps Asgore’s penned in the same handwriting someone with no idea how a pen works would do!

**Bah!**

Toriel slams her hands together, closing the scroll violently in the process. She leans forward with her hand massaging her forehead as her elbow supports the weight onto her knee. A slight wind picks up. It could carry the scroll far and wide if she just let go of it.

He didn’t sign it so it wouldn’t be linked back to him. Worst case scenario is that a guard finds it and presents it as evidence towards a heist on the castle or something.

Worst case is that Toriel won’t be able to see Asgore again.

_**AAAAAArgh!** _

There it is again! That heart burn in her soul.

Breathe it out. Carefully. Just exhale calmly and…just...think…for a minute.

“But he can write properly,” she whispers to herself to convince. “The note about the Royal Purple proved as much.”

He was stressed when he wrote this. That must be it. He was stressed because he’s been training to go on a diplomatic mission, and to calm himself he’s invited Toriel up to the castle. The castle that’s surrounded by a hundred guards…

Toriel taps the scroll impatiently at her knee as she moves the palm of her hand down underneath her chin.

“Do I want to do this?” she asks herself, feeling each movement of her chin propagate through her hand, down her arm, and up her leg to her spine.

It doesn’t even have time to reach her head before she says the answer.

“Yes.”

A nearby child Aaron looks over to her as if she interrupted his workout. She drags a friendly smile to get him on other thoughts.

After extending her thumb at the Aaron as he flexes his arm, Toriel takes another quick look at the scroll again. The choppy lines reminds her of when she wrote her name on the dismissal contract before-

Wait…

The tiredness in Toriel’s legs disappear like a whisper in a storm as she flies up from the bench, startling the nearby Aaron child in the process.

She’s got a much better idea than whatever haphazard scribble Asgore has done on the scroll!

The officer she met before when she was invited to the castle asked her to think about the job proposal she got, and that she were to come back should she have changed her mind.

Technically she has, so…

//

“My Prince, your aura.”

“I’m stressed, I know. A lot on my mind right now. Is it slipping out into my aura again?”

“It’s different than before,” the priestess informs curiously as she opens her eyes slowly. “Is something the matter? Outside the realm of humans, that is?”

“No,” Asgore answers.

“Very well, then you’re dismissed.”

Asgore stands up with his eyes glued on the door. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” the priestess asks as Asgore puts his hand on the door handle. “You’d tell me if something was clouding your mind, right? It’s of utmost importance that you have yourself under control for the mission tomorrow, my Prince.”

Asgore’s hand lingers on the handle, the only weight being put on it is with each slow inhale of his.

“It’s not only you that’s to undergo this diplomatic journey, Asgore. You’ll be bringing your future people with you as well. You’ll be the conduit, their voice to speak their words. You wouldn’t do anything to put them in harms way willingly? That’s not what you’ve worked for.”

The priestess breath is held as she waits for an answer. None comes though, and her slight movement sends out a subtle ruffle of her cloak which hits Asgore’s ears as a deafening roar.

“Prince Asgore?” she asks carefully.

He doesn’t turn around. “I am fine, priestess.”

A beat passes, almost as an hour.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow before you depart.”

“Yes.” Asgore opens the door. “I’ll see you then.”

//

“No civilians allowed. Visiting hours have been suspended today,” one of the guards informs Toriel as she approaches. He returns his outstretched hand to his side and clicks his metal boots together. The sound reminds Toriel of when she accidentally dropped her frying pan into the largest pot.

Alright, Toriel’s mission is to get inside the castle and find Asgore.

To do so, she’ll begin with the truth.

“I was here before regarding a position as a cook. I’m the creator of the soup the prince drank during his parade.”

The guard’s eyes meet Toriel’s.

Then insert a seed.

“I was asked to return by the officer I spoke to.”

The guard’s eyes detach from Toriel as they move around in thought. His grip on his spear unsettles as he seems to debate himself over what Toriel’s said. “Excuse me for a moment,” he asks with a slight bow.

Seed seems to be growing.

After a minute or so the guard returns with another in tow. The two talk quietly for a short while before the guard is sent over back to Toriel. “My superior can confirm your identity, but not the legitimacy of your claim for your visitation. Matters of Royal Invitation is handled elsewhere. I will escort you to the appropriate department, under guard. Please follow me.”

That’s step one taken care of. Now onto step two.

Whatever that is.

//

Getting a guard uniform might prove harder than Asgore’s planned for it to be. Getting one in Toriel’s size is gonna be even harder. This he’s only realized now while standing as inconspicuous as a prince wandering the castle can be while trying to sneakily catch glimpses of any lockers that could contain uniforms.

Gonna have to do something about fixating an inconspicuous dog tail on her as well.

But that’s-

Asgore lowers the book that’s he’s been using to hide his intentions from his face. It turns more and more confused the lower his book travels until his face finally resembles a white raisin.

Hang on a second…

//

Yes! Come over here! Hurry! Toriel can’t wave more otherwise she’ll get the attention of the entire castle!

“Do you have your Royal Invitation on your person…Toriel, was it?”

He must’ve seen her! Otherwise-

“Miss?” the officer addressees harshly, forcing Toriel to turn her head towards him. “Your Royal Invitation?”

“I...it’s...”

The officer nods to the guard behind her, who puts his ornate gauntlet on Toriel’s shoulder.

“Provide your Royal Invitation this moment or I will be forced to-”

The officer’s face freezes, and his hand drops the quill he’s been pointing accusingly towards Toriel. He flies out of his chair, knocking ink all over the forms on his desks. “My prince!” The officer dips his muzzle in the pool of ink as he bows. His lips curl violently at the smell and sense of light drowning, but his composure still stands.

The guard behind Toriel pushes down on her shoulder as he too bows towards the Prince closing in, forcing her into one as well.

“I have been expecting you,” the Prince states in an emotionless voice. “You can stand up.”

//

Good Prince? Bad Prince?

How’s Asgore gonna play this?

Let’s see what Toriel does first.

//

Guess this is step two then. Or three. Four?

Anyways, Toriel should probably play along.

She grabs the sides of her dress and lifts it up ever so slightly while lowering her head respectfully. “My Prince.”

//

Ankles. Toriel’s ankles.

_Oh boy…_

Be still, my beating heart.

I! Said! Be! Still!

Asgore clears his throat quietly. “Yes, it’s good that you’re here...” He looks over to the officer, who scrambles for his papers, only to realize that they’re completely soaked in ink. None of it is legible. Despite the recent refill of black coloring from dipping his face into ink, the officer’s color is drained to the point of sickly pale.

“I am Toriel, my Prince,” Toriel introduces softly with another bow and dainty lift of her dress.

“Yes, Toriel. I appreciate you heeding my summon.” Asgore holds out his hand while keeping his other behind his back. “If you would.”

Toriel gingerly puts her hand inside Asgore’s. “It would be an honor, my Prince.”

But before the two can slink off, the officer raises his voice awkwardly. “W-what is the purpose of Ms. T-Toriel’s visit, my Prince?”

Uh oh.

//

“Cooking,” Toriel mouths as subtly as she can, but hopefully enough that Asgore catches it.

“You question me about my intentions, soldier?” Asgore retorts with eyes peering hard against the officer.

“T-the o-order c-comes from the King. A-all m-matters of v-visitation d-during tim-mes of heightened s-secutiry is t-to be document-t-ted,” the officers responds with his head bowed to the point of almost disappearing like an anchor thrown overboard deep inside the ink on his desk. “F-forgive me, but I h-have to insist.”

//

Dammit!

What’s a good explanation for this?

//

“Cooking!” Toriel shouts through her whisper. She’s not sure if it’s audible to the guards, but apparently she has to raise her voice to get it through Asgore’s thick skull!

//

Hmm….

//

Is he deaf? Much good he’s done with propping up his ears all pompous like that if it doesn’t even help his hearing!

//

Oh! Right!

Yes! A brilliant idea!

Good thing Asgore thought it up without Toriel’s interference, otherwise that would’ve been awkward to explain.

“Cooking,” Asgore finally answers the officer.

//

Finally!

//

“In preparation for my diplomatic mission it would be wise for me to bring with me some of my people, and since Ms. Toriel here,” Asgore explains while dragging his hand over Toriel’s arm.

//

Because of the present company, Toriel feels that Asgore should be careful before he starts pushing the facade a bit too far. The way he moves his hand up her arm is anything but one, and he has to be careful so that the officer or the guard realizes the actual intention.

_Otherwise though._

//

“Since Ms. Toriel here was the chef of the soup given to me during the parade I figured she’d make it for me to help me steel my nerves further. It’ll remind me about the people I will later protect, about the monsters that makes this nation what it is. I am to represent my people during my travel, so my people I will bring with me.”

Asgore finishes his impromptu speech by motioning to the stunned officer. “Please escort Ms. Toriel to the kitchen and give her everything she asks for. Afterwards, escort her along with her chosen equipment to the training yard afterwards. I will participate in her cooking alongside her.”

“W-why not in the kitchen?” the officer asks after some nervous thinking.

Asgore leans in with his hand covering the side of his mouth. “I don’t want to disturb and also make our head chef jealous. He’s already up in flames enough as he is.”

The officer nods. “I’ll s-see to it t-then, my Prince!”

Asgore drags a friendly smile. “Thank you, soldier.” He turns his head over to Toriel, “I’ll see you in a bit then, Ms. Toriel,” and bows gently towards her.

//

Any longer with this and Toriel’s going to feel pride over the Royals.

Better to hurry along then!

Although, now that she’s in the castle. For the first time, perhaps even the only time.

Maybe not hurry along that fast.

She bows back before turning her head gently over to the officer. “Which way to the kitchen?”

//

Asgore watches Toriel along with the officer leave towards the kitchen. She hangs back as the officer rounds the corner, lingering her eyes towards Asgore. He winks confidently in return, and she hurries along after the officer.

“If I may, my Prince?” the guard left behind asks while staring at the corner his superior and Toriel just rounded. “If your training and schooling has led you to this, then the humans won’t stand a chance against you.”

Asgore nods while keeping his eyes at the corner just vacated of Toriel’s presence. “I thank you for that compliment.”

The soldier kneels deeply. “Always, my Prince.”

“Yes, my skills have become quite,” Asgore leans in over the soldier’s helm, “souperb.” He turns around with pride, letting his cape sweep the air behind him.

**Yes!**

_Oh that was so good!_

This couldn’t have gone better! No amount of rehearsing could’ve produced something with such _grace and expertise_ Asgore just did.

Oh he is gonna let this pride wash over him until he drowns! He’s gonna toots his horn until it’s heard the world over twice!

And he’s not even gotten to the part where he gets to train with Toriel yet!

Her soup too!

_**YES!** _

It’s like all of this, and the previous, week’s of hard study and training has just up and disappeared from Asgore’s shoulders. He’s flying on clouds, and it’s just gonna get higher from now on.

He’s not only gotten Toriel smuggled into the castle, he’s also given her the most waterproof of alibi for her to be with him alone in the training yard.

She’s gotta be just as excited as he is right now!

//

Soup, ey?

Was this Asgore great plan? To get Toriel to make her soup again for him?

For being a prince that’s quite fiendish of him.

Toriel chuckles.

Fell right into his trap, she did.

“What is it you’ll be needing?” the officer asks over his shoulders. His voice now a bit more steady with Asgore out of his presence. “Equipment, ingredients?”

Oh, right.

“A pot and a wooden ladle for the cooking. A knife and a cutting board for preparation.”

“No knives.”

Okay?

The officer can feel Toriel’s raised eyebrow hit him right in the back of his head. “You are still an unknown actor that’s been granted access through means outside of regular protocol, even with the Prince’s blessing,” he explains as he motions Toriel through a door and down a long corridor adorned with a long velvet mat that almost massages Toriel’s feet as she walks upon it.

“Understand that you’re still a risk to the Prince, even if he’s gladly waved you inside. We Royal Guards are sworn to protect the Royal Family and their interests, even if it means protecting them from said interest. Their well being and duty to this country reigns above their own personal endeavors, and the Prince’s choice to invite you without consulting Sir Gerson is going to be reprimanded after his diplomatic mission is over. That is his duty. It’s his priority. It’s a heavy burden to carry the weight of an entire country, but it is a weight he’s been training for his entire life. You are one of his people, and that he’s chosen you to help him represent shows great confidence from him.”

The officer takes a deep breath.

“If it turns out that you’re not a disruptive actor, that is. I’m putting a moratorium on you handling any form of potential weapon in the vicinity of the Prince not only for his sake.” The officer turns around with a sharp nod towards Toriel. His weathered muzzle drags into a friendly smile, hiding his worn scars behind a series of wrinkles formed throughout his many years.

”But for yours as well, Ms. Toriel. Trust when I say that your invitation is unheard of. Never have I experienced something like this, and I would hazard the same for my superiors as well. I do not wish for this to escalate though. My duty is to the Prince, as I said, and if he feels like he needs to be reminded of his people before he goes onto representing them, then I will assist however I can. When interests overlaps with duty is when we Royal Guards have to make hard decisions, and I do hope that you’ll aid me in this, Ms. Toriel.”

Toriel can barely form words. She...she never imagined this. She’s...speechless. She knew that what Asgore said about his mission was important, but now that she’s hearing someone else speak about it too? This, devotion. Is this what’s she’s been blowing raspberries towards all her life?

She shudders as a wave of guilt pours over her. Like...like she’s been angry without reason. Whatever reason she’s had she now feels has plummeted to the bottom of the deepest mine in the land.

It seems so...childish! All of her anger, like tantrums! This officer, this monster, just like her, with his whole life dedicated to protecting her, to making sure she’s protected for her future as well. She’s heard the guards down at the tavern sing their lament, but never like this.

Never so much from the soul. This officer’s aura is like nothing she’s felt before.

And Asgore...

She’s never felt like Asgore was the Prince before. Not with how he acted unlike what the Town Criers told. With what this officer is talking about though, she can’t see anyone else other than the Prince spoken about by the Town Criers.

But...that’s what Asgore’s been so vocal about, right? That he can’t live up to that, even if he pushes himself further than should be possible. Is Toriel betraying him by imagining him as the Prince the officer is painting him to be?

The prince he’s painting is what Toriel would like a prince to be though, but with all the years of the Town Criers repeating it…

Hearing it from another voice, another position. One monster to another, instead of one monster to all who want, and do not want, to listen. It’s stirring something inside Toriel, bringing back something she never thought she’d feel again.

Pride.

Pride in her country and in the Royal Family.

She felt it once before, when the Town Criers first told of Asgore’s accomplishments. Only once though, petering away with each repeating clang of their hand rung bell. With each repeated phrase that soon turned to propaganda in Toriel’s ears, her brow furrowed lower and lower in annoyance. It wasn’t long until she actively avoided the Town Criers.

Actively avoided any mention of the Prince.

Must’ve been a Prince arrogant beyond measure if he let the Town Criers sing his praises every morning like that.

The Prince she’s met wasn’t the Prince she’s heard of every morning, day, and evening. He’s different. She’s trespassed, and he’s helped her, for the two of them to meet again.

However, hearing the officer talk of the Prince that’s been paraded in words, Toriel feels that she’d like to meet that Prince too. The other one had a parade which the two of them met, could this be one too? Another parade?

A bit smaller than the previous one, true, but the concept is the same, and this time she’s walking with it. Sharing it.

The Prince that she could trust to keep her safe. To keep her country prosperous. A prince powerful enough to be respected, and who respects in return.

Can she see Asgore as that Prince?

No, not now.

But maybe-

“Will you?”

Toriel lifts her head up.

The officer has stopped with his hand nestled underneath a handle to a large wooden door ornamented with vines and produce along its frame.

“Will you aid me in this, Ms. Toriel?” the officer repeats as his hand hangs on the metal ring fastened at the door as a handle. “To see the Prince become a king? Assist him in his quest that he’s dedicated his entire life for?”

Toriel nods, determined. “I will.”

More than the officer could ever guess.

//

“Where is it?”

Asgore slams shut his drawer, almost breaking it in the process.

Where is it!

He’s forgotten to bring it twice to her now! He’s gonna make the third time the charm even if it means lifting the tower from its foundation and shake it loose until-

Oh, there it is. Lying on his bedside table. Where he put it so that he wouldn’t forget it.

...Right.

Asgore wraps his finger around it. With the inside of his cloak he polishes it clean, even as he knows that it’s probably gonna get dirtied up during the training he’s going to have with Toriel.

He still can’t believe it. He’s so excited!

She has to be as well.

//

They weren’t kidding when they said that it was a cast iron pot. It weighs a tonne! If not more!

Each step up the winding stairs is taking more out of Toriel’s legs than the walk up to the castle. She has to take each step carefully as well, otherwise her foot will go straight through the cobblestone.

Just a few more…

She’s gonna make the soup before the training, otherwise she won’t have any energy left.

Just a few more steps…

//

Where is she?

Has she been caught?

Thrown out?

Perhaps even-

The wooden door bursts open as a large black metal pot comes crashing in, followed closely behind by Toriel. She sets it down while dragging some rugged breaths, and with her palms pressing hard against her squatting legs.

Had Asgore not known that she was a woman prior he wouldn’t have guessed for the entire world that she was one with how her breathing sounds at the moment.

“Tori-”

Asgore almost bites his tongue of as he catches it just in time before the officer enters carrying a myriad of tools in his arms. He sets it down in a careful pile next to Toriel, bows to the Prince, and closes the door.

“Wait!” Asgore shouts, stopping the officer just before he shuts the door.

“Yes, my Prince?”

“I am not to be disturbed from now on,” he orders. “I will see to Ms. Toriel’s exit once she is finished. Continue with your protocol.”

//

That’s the other Prince…

//

“Certainly, my Prince!” The officer bows again before shutting the door.

Good, but to be completely certain...

//

“Took-”

Asgore lifts up a hand to silence Toriel. He holds a finger upraised as he sneakily tip toes over to the door the officer just closed. The imagery is quite incongruous, with the ornate armor and flowing purple cape of the Prince bobbing gingerly as he walks on his toes to the door. Toriel pushes her palm up to her mouth to quell her giggling.

A full minute passes before Asgore nods to Toriel. “He should be far enough away by now.” He takes the cast iron pot in his hands, and lifts it as if it was nothing.

Toriel’s not sure whether to be impressed or annoyed by that.

“Took some breath out of me to carry that thing up those stairs,” she explains as she follows Asgore with the tools and ingredients for her soup.

“I should’ve ordered another soldier to follow you to carry.” Asgore sets down the pot in the middle of the training ring. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Toriel says without thinking. “What you can apologize for is that smug feeling you had in your aura as you talked to the officer. Convincing him that I was here to cook you soup?” she confronts playfully while raising an eyebrow.

Asgore chuckles embarrassingly while scratching his chin. “I...kinda lost myself there, yes. I was excited, and a bit afraid of you getting caught. I hope it’s not too much an issue for you?”

Toriel’s arms cross as she cocks her head, still keeping her eyebrow raised. “Do you want the soup? Did you really think it was as good as you said it was?”

Asgore looks down while his fingers massages the rim of the pot. A circle forms in the sand as its feet spin slowly from his flustered movement. “Yes,” he says, almost as an admission. “I enjoyed it.”

“And how are you going to pay for the labor and ingredients?”

Asgore points a finger over to the ingredients Toriel sat down next to her. “You got those free.”

True, but. “What about the labor?”

Asgore’s finger moves in a circle pointing up. “I got you into the castle?”

Toriel’s eyebrow is raised.

“And I’ll help you with your magic.”

“Is that so?” Toriel challenges while rubbing her chin.

“Granted,” Asgore says while moving his head from shrugging shoulder to shrugging shoulder, “it’ll not be payment near enough for the exquisite taste and amazing richness that your soup will provide to me, and-”

Toriel shuts him up with a friendly shove. “Know when you’re starting to say too much, Prince.”

Asgore drags a relieved, and a bit scared, exhale. “Oh...you were kidding.” He swipes his forehead. “For a second there...”

“Yes, yes!” Toriel waves it away. “I had to get those stairs out of me.” She sits down on her knees next to the pot. “You’re going to help me cook, by the way.”

//

He is?

“...Alright.”

“What?” Toriel asks while waving a wooden ladle over his nose. “Is the Prince not going to help his people?”

“Y-yes!” Asgore reaches over to grab the nearest...thing. Whatever! Just grab something! In this case a head of a cabbage. “Of course I am!”

What’s he supposed to do with this?

//

Like a yo-yo.

“Good.”

Toriel holds her hand out.

“First off, conjure up a knife.”


	20. Souls on fire

“Why there are three holes with even spacing between them through the painting of the King?”

“Feet at shoulder’s width!” Asgore states loudly. He coughs immediately after. “Feet at shoulder’s width,” he repeats a bit quieter and with a disarming chuckle.

After a moment to realize that Asgore just shouted for seemingly no reason, Toriel moves her feet out slightly per Asgore’s instructions. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Asgore clears his throat, “act like there’s a taut chain going down from your shoulders down to your feet.” He draws one in the air going from his left shoulder to his left foot using his staff. “You want the two to move as one as much as possible. Gives you more strength behind your swings.”

He takes a step forward and one step back to demonstrate, making sure that his shoulder follows along sturdily. “See how more rigid and imposing it is compared to just having the two act separately? This translates to the force you can expel too! Watch.”

Asgore takes a step back with his left foot, and shoulder, since they’re connected by a taut chain. He leans his weight onto his right leg, and as he throws his left side forward, he moves his wieght over, causing the dust around the impact of his left foot to flee in fear of his commanding stomp.

“Now you try. Follow my movement.”

Toriel mimics Asgore taking a step back, leaning the weight, and then thrusting it forward along with her left side.

The dust around her foot doesn’t really flee in fear, but it’s quite startled nonetheless.

“Good!” Asgore exclaims. “That’s the basic for, well, almost everything. You have to be able to control your own body and weight before using it as a weapon.”

“You’re saying that I need practice for my weight?” Toriel teases while leaning an elbow on her staff with a playful eyebrow raised.

“Practice makes perfect, and I see that you have a lot of practice, Toriel.”

**Yes!**

Asgore cheers himself inside his mind.

Good work!

//

Does he have a list of those?

Must have.

“What about magic?”

Asgore nods. “We can do magic.” He extends his hand for Toriel to hand over her training staff. “If you want to, that is?”

She hands it over with a smile. “Sure, might give me an edge when I begin University.”

//

University…

Right…

“How long are you planning on staying there, pray tell?” Asgore asks over his shoulder as he remounts the staffs on their racks.

Toriel shrugs. “A couple of years. Depends.”

Years…

No! Focus!

The present is now! Prioritize that!

Asgore heads over to the adjacent rack containing the training mats used for close combat techniques, but for now they’re better off being used so that Toriel doesn’t stain her dress.

Just need a couple of quick flicks to get all of the laden dust off it and-

//

How can one monster cough that much? Toriel can barely see Asgore inside the cloud of dust he created as he slapped one of those mats.

“You need help there?”

“No!” he clearly lies as he coughs violently immediately after. “I’m just fine.”

He comes staggering out of the cloud with the bend of his...rock solid...arm pressed firmly against his mouth. Toriel takes a step back as Asgore approaches holding one of the mats out for her. She grabs it with the tip of her thumb and index finger.

“Thanks?”

Still looks to be a bit dusty. She’ll just-

“No!” Asgore desperately shouts to stop her, but it’s too late.

Another cloud emerges from Toriel lifting up and snapping the mat downwards. She recoils while stumbling away from where she just made her terrible mistake.

“Oh boy.” Toriel blinks in an attempt to get the dust out of her eyes. Small puffs of dust escape her mouth and nose as she coughs and sneezes to get it out of her. “Didn’t you get it all out yourself?”

“I tried to!” Asgore defends as he waves his hand in front of his face to get some actual breathable air inside him.

Toriel finally escapes the cloud of dust she’s summoned. It’ll have to do then with the dust still inside the mat. She’d still like to be able to breathe, and that desire takes precedent over her dress getting a bit dirty.

She carefully places the mat down on the ground. Afterwards, she seats herself even more carefully on her knees. The softness of the mattress seems to hold her weight. It should do since it’s been used for Asgore’s training, right?

“Are you comfortable?” he asks after laying down his own mat and seating himself as comfortable as he can. “Do you want a second mattress?”

“There’s no pea underneath, so don’t worry,” Toriel replies.

“Sorry?”

Sorry? Doesn’t he know? “You haven’t heard of the human princess that slept on top of all those mattresses? Didn’t you say you read about a fair number of human legends before?”

She knows about it, but Asgore doesn’t?

Asgore head slumps down a bit as he thinks hard. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to shine up. “Oh! Her!” His head slumps down again. “Wait, are we thinking of the same one? Because it was an exaggeration to show her legitimacy after a rather bloody coup attempt. From what I’ve been told it was actually a pearl she hid underneath her double mattress, one that symbolized her family’s legacy. Guess it’s been twisted into legend.”

“At least your exaggerations are just about your own strength and magical prowess?” Toriel says as a joke.

Hopefully he gets it.

His chuckle is a good indication that he did. “I guess.”

“Been learning a lot about the human kingdoms these last weeks?”

Asgore’s hesitates an answer. “More than I’d ever know,” he sighs after a brief and thoughtful pause. “Won’t do our relations with the human countries any good if I travel over knowing only hearsay and legends. I know of those too, of course, but the distinction is what is important.”

Really? Toriel leans forward, as much as she dares not to disturb the mattress too much. “Pray tell some.”

“Some of the human legends?”

“Sure.”

Asgore nods, and a hint of a proud smile forms on his lips. “Let’s see here. Actually, you want to know about some of their culinary techniques? Don’t think you’ll be able to use them in your own cooking though.”

Is that a challenge, ey? “I’m pretty handy with a ladle and a knife.” Toriel nods over to the pot cooling down after having its delicious soup being vacated hungrily. “You know all about it, my dear Prince. I most certainly hope that you do. I make a mean snail pie to boot.”

//

She does?

How in the world did she suddenly become even more perfect?

//

“In one country they bury poisonous shark for months, sometimes even years. Then they dig it up and eat it,” Asgore tells with a tasteless sneer to his expression.

Toriel’s starting to regret asking.

Asgore fails in suppressing a small chuckle. “I had the same look you had when I first learned about it.” He shrugs his shoulders, shifting his weight in the process. His mattress responds by pouring out some sand from a corner. Less of it now, seems he’s gotten the most out of it by now. “But apparently it is a delicacy. There’s also a form of bread that’s cooked in the ashes of an active volcano.”

Toriel’s starting to regret regretting. “Really?” she asks, leaning a bit too forward. She falls over, and slams her hands down on the edge of the mattress. She barely manages to avoid the dust cloud by immediately pushing herself up again. She feels another cloud forming behind her as she regains her balance, but perhaps if she just ignores it it’ll go away.

Her neck beginning to itch might be evidence against her theory though. Not something she can’t scratch away with a quick drag of her claw unfortunately.

“That is one of the more happy legends, to be honest. The humans have an...interesting relation to their history.” Asgore nods to himself. “Very interesting...”

“You’re packed so full of them it’s like they’re spilling out of your ears?” Toriel pries.

“Something like that.”

“I see.”

//

Wasn’t all of this so that Asgore would forget about the humans for a while?

He should probably switch the subject sooner rather than later.

//

Wasn’t all of this so that Asgore would forget about the humans for a while?

She should probably switch the subject sooner rather than later.

“About the magic-”  
“About the magic-”

The two recoil from hearing the other say the exact same thing. Their eyes lock for a moment before the two snicker and avert their eyes.

Asgore clears his throat again, but this time from the dust disturbed by him turning his head away. “Y-your magic, Toriel? Can you show me?”

He already knows though…

It’s gonna be different this time around though, right? Toriel puts her hand over her chest to feel if it will. After all that’s happened. Does it feel different than at the parade? Toriel closes her eyes and leans her head forward. She searches inside her. What she felt at the parade. The disgust, the ridiculousness, the…

The hate.

Jealousy too?

Perhaps.

None of that is inside of her though. None of it is still with her.

She opens her eyes.

Because he is here.

//

She has such a beautiful smile.

//

“Fire magic,” Toriel says carefully. “I know only of fire magic. What I...what I’ve wanted to learn is healing.”

“Do you feel afraid of your fire?” Asgore asks cautiously in response.

“If you’re gonna give me advice about not being afraid of my destructive magic while I’m harboring a desire for constructive, then I’ve already had it before during my years of mandatory schooling, Asgore.”

He nods. “Certainly. I’m asking to try and understand where I should begin.”

Toriel understands that. “M-maybe I should also tell you why I want to go to University.”

“Does it have something to do with your magic?” Asgore asks with a careful hand opened for Toriel. “You’re going there to learn healing magic, I’m guessing?”

“Yes...”

“And something else?” Asgore adds after hearing the reserved tone of Toriel’s voice. “May I ask?”

No one has before. Mostly because Toriel hasn’t let them, or made any indication that there was something else. What she just did is lit a signal fire as far as indications goes.

But she doesn’t mind. Not with him. Not anymore.

“I...” Toriel looks down as she drags her finger over her ear, squeezing it for comfort. “I want to be a teacher. It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time.”

“That’s...not something I thought you would say, to be honest.” Asgore throws his hands up, in complete disregard to the amount of dust that follows his rapid movement. “N-not that I think that it is wrong! I can see why you’d want to, now that I think about it. You’re a quite generous soul, Toriel. From what I’ve glimpsed of you during your work, you’re very kind to your patrons. Harsh when they get unruly, but fair in your punishment. You’re understanding.”

Toriel chuckles to herself. “I guess...”

“I can attest to that,” Asgore assures with a warm smile. “Because...you know...”

She does. It might embarrass her to admit that, but she does.

“I thank you for that, Toriel.” Asgore’s face hardens as he bows his head. “You have no idea how much you’ve done for me. So much. I’ve had teachers and people to tend to my every need and curiosity my entire life, but none has been as understanding as you have. Take it from me that if you can make a prince feel understood, then you will have no problem becoming the best teacher there is.”

“Asgore, you don’t-”

“I do,” he says as he tilts his head up. “And from the depth of my soul, thank you.”

“You’ve given me plenty of Royal Purple, so we’re even on that,” Toriel deflects with a laugh. It’s only outward though. Inside she’s...she’s…

No… Not yet…

But...soon.

Just need a spark.

//

Did Asgore do too much?

No, not according to him, but what about her?

She’s smiling that every so beautiful smile of hers, so perhaps not? It’s clear that she wasn’t really comfortable with it though. Asgore should get on with the magic before things get too awkward.

Remember how the priestess used to teach him. How to mold his soul. Shape it to his will, so when the time comes, he can use that to restore himself. If he understand his soul, then he’ll be able to understand himself.

Healing is not restoring to before, it is replacing what’s been lost. If you don’t know what’s been lost, then you can’t replace it.

Yes, that’s a good start for her.

“Please show me what you can do with your fire, Toriel.”

//

What she can do with her fire?

Good question. She hasn’t really thought about it before. Not really had a reason to make pride of it.

Toriel summons a crackling ball in her hand, wild orange flames enveloping her hand, licking her fingers and wrist as if dancing around the maypoles that are her fingers.

//

Her aura…

It’s there again.

“Can you do more?” Asgore asks.

Toriel nods, creating another similar ball in her other hand.

“More?”

Toriel looks back and forth between her magic. “I haven’t tried before...”

“Now is your chance,” Asgore offers warmly. “I’m also gonna ask you to let your aura wander. It’ll not reach outside the training room, not even mine can. It has wards to keep the training inside the training room. I’ll be able to give you advice to focus your magic better if I feel it myself, which is why I ask.”

//

Is that so?

Just because of that?

Probably not, but at this rate, she doesn’t mind.

Quite the opposite.

“Close your eyes,” Asgore asks as he does it himself.

Toriel does too.

“Do you feel your magic, Toriel?” she hears Asgore ask. “How it’s caressing your hands? How it’s manifesting through you? You don’t have to answer, you just have to make yourself aware of the feeling.”

What is he talking about?

Wait…

Toriel flexes her wrists. Yes, there’s something. Something she can...control?

//

She’s searching for it. Asgore can feel it in her aura. Good, very good.

He just have to be patient with her until she finds-

There!

“Seize it, Toriel!”

“How?”

“The sensation in your hands, can you feel it? Are you aware of it?”

//

Is she?

Yes...yes she is!

“Let it travel up your arm.”

Is that even possible?

“Don’t hesitate! Thinking has it going to your head first. It has to come from your soul, not your mind.”

But-

“You’re hesitating, Toriel!”

//

No!

No yelling!

Gerson’s not teaching her! Asgore is! It’ll be different.

It has to be.

Think!

Maybe if he…

It might work. He just needs to be careful with her. Gentle.

//

What is-

Is that...Asgore?

His...presence? Inside her magic?

What is he…

Oh!

Like the parade! What Toriel did!

He’s...he’s helping her though. Unlike what she did to him.

“Don’t think, Toriel.”

Right. Don’t think.

Toriel exhales calmly. “Show me, please.”

He’s stirring? Mixing together? Making a…

A soup?

It’s cold. Like ice. Sitting uncooked. Toriel has to light the brazier underneath the pot to get it going. She...she said she was to cook some for him. For Asgore.

She flicks her fingers underneath it, but it remains unlit. The wood, it’s wet! Useless!

But the soup. It has to be cooked!

She promised him she would!

A spark! She needs a spark!

Toriel clenches her fist, but still nothing.

“Don’t. Think.”

Don’t. Think.

Do what your soul wants.

Toriel extends her hand, her arm, both her arms, her head, her torso, her legs.

Her everything.

She envelops the pot, embraces it.

Just needs a...

//

A wave of heat is thrown against Asgore, as if a thousand suns were lit at the same time. He recoils from it, throwing himself back with his arm over his face to shield himself from the intense gust of heat.

The fire calms down, comes under control. Toriel’s aura disappears from around him, concentrating itself towards her.

Did she?

Asgore peeks his eyes over his arms.

She did.

Like stars on a cloudless night, fireballs dot around Toriel, hovering in place as if bobbing on a calm mountain lake. Each crackling with a nostalgic warmth and relaxing shimmer.

Toriel opens her eyes.

“Thank you, Asgore.”

//

Did she do this? Is this hers?

Toriel breathes in.

Yes. Yes it is hers.

It’s taking quite a lot out of her though. She’s not sure how much longer she can keep them all in the air. Is the sweat starting to form from the heat, or the effort?

Perhaps both.

Toriel lets some dissipate.

There, better.

“The first time is a tough one,” Asgore comforts. “You’ll learn how to make it with less effort as it comes more natural to you.”

Toriel nods. “I see.”

She lets the rest of the fireballs die down, except one, which she takes in her hand.

Now, to do what her soul wants.

She offers the fireball to Asgore. “Your hand.” He’s deserved it. It’s something she wants him to have.

He does so timidly, and she places the fire of her making, of her soul, of the most primal of her, the deepest that is hers, inside his hand.

“Thank you, Asgore.”

She pushes the fire inside Asgore’s hand. He flinches, but she catches the back of his head with a careful palm.

“T-Toriel?” he stammers out.

“The spark is struck, Asgore,” she replies, keeping the fireball in her hand locked inside his, and her other hand firmly behind his neck. “I want to.” She drags her muzzle underneath his, parting his beard. It tickles her.

To finally feel him against her.

“Give me yours,” she asks. “You want to.”

Asgore tries to look down, but Toriel tilts her head up, burrowing into his throat and shoulder. She moves her hand down his neck and onto his other shoulder. “I know you do.”

//

This…

“Asgore.”

This is…

“Don’t think.”

This is what he wants.

His fingers seek Toriel’s, her magic, her warmth.

It’s there, inside his hand. She’s given it to him, he just has to accept it, and give his in return.

But...

He feels Toriel’s head move underneath his chin again. Like a silk coat being dragged across a splintered plank. She doesn’t mind though. No, she wants him to wear it too. The silk will fit him perfectly.

Her nose touch his, and carefully she tilts it down. Her eyes come into his view, connecting with his nose as if fate destined the two to be.

The want, the need, staring into him as piercing as the sharpest he could ever make his trident.

Her windows to her soul, opened for him.

The suns she created, the stars of splendor, like the ones above them during the night, invisible during the day, but always lingering, always waiting to be admired. All of those, reflecting in her eyes, in her soul.

For him.

Her smile parts her slender lips, filling Asgore with anxiousness, and desire. Her breath touches his, just as warm as the fire she’s holding out for him to embrace.

“Don’t. Think.”

And he won’t.

He grabs Toriel’s hand, letting her magic inside of him, into his soul. It burns, but it’s been so cold for so long. A torch to dispel the darkness of this past week. A candle held against the looming humans, reminding him that he’s a monster.

And so is she. The most beautiful monster there is.

Her soul, which he prods gingerly with his magic, that which she steals from him. Like she does his lips, Toriel locks his together with hers.

“Thank you,” he whispers before the Boss Monster he could never stop thinking off steals his tongue. It’s hers now, to do whatever she wants.

//

And she wants him.

All of him.

His body, his soul.

To be with her. Comfort her. Be the Prince she’s heard of, and the Prince she’s been with. The two of them, together inside him.

For her.

His chiseled body, and intricate soul, all for her. An entire lifetime he’s spent perfecting the two, and Toriel gets to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Sultry, bountiful, juicy, are those fruits.

She feels his free hand try to caress her head, her horns, her ears.

So clumsily. So inexperienced. A Prince in all things him, but a novice in expressing it.

Toriel takes his clumsy hand, and moves it down her body, letting him caress her form, and finally placing it on her waist, where he can hold her steady. Where he can be a Prince, where he can protect her against any danger that might arrive.

No, not outside her dress.

Inside it.

His hand turns timid, but she reinsures it by pushing it against her fur. It’s staying there, and that’s final!

His heat is like a warm and gentle summer breeze.

Stay there. Protect her as close as he can.

The safety he brings, it feels relaxing. She can spend more of her with him, knowing that he’ll be there. Knowing that he’ll keep her safe.

//

Forgiving.

She’s so forgiving of him.

All his clumsiness, all of his wrongs, she turned her other cheek against. She’s believed in him like no other, and she’s sharing herself with him like no other.

“Careful with your teeth,” she teases as she retracts her lip for a moment.

“S-sorry.”

“No.” She returns her mouth to him. “Don’t be.”

Forgiving…

So many mistakes, all for nothing. Nothing to be held against him, nothing to seed a grudge. They we’re all for nothing, nothing they would become.

“You’re thinking again, Asgore.”

How can he not?

This wasn’t to happen!

“But it did, Prince.”

It did…

He feels Toriel’s free hand occupy itself up his torso. It stops at his chest, and gently folds itself around to his back. Each minute movement her fur strokes against his, just like she allowed his hand to do on her.

Like a slow avalanche down fresh snow, the white of their fur roll together.

“Toriel?” he asks through the only small gap of time she’s let go of his tongue.

“Yes?” she asks, rubbing his cheek against his.” What is it, my Prince?”

“I never want it to end, Toriel.”

Toriel moves her lips back to his. “Then we won’t let it..”

//

This time she’ll never let them go again.

//

“I want you here.”

//

“I want you as well.”

//

“Forever.”

//

“Forever.”

Never to let go.

//

Never to ask.

//

Never to think.

//

Together.

//

Toriel retracts her hand from Asgore’s back. Before he can react to the cold of her absence she takes a hold of his wrist firmly in place on her waist.

She lied to him. She doesn’t want him there.

Not on her waist.

Lower.

There.

Hold her there.

//

Toriel’s fingers again part the white fur on Asgore’s chest as they slowly run up to return to-

“Guards!”

No…

No...it can’t be!

“Guards!”

No!

No! No! No!

**NO!**

Toriel disappears from inside of Asgore. Her hands loosens from his. Her lips, which she promised would never let go, are torn away from his as she recoils backwards in fear.

Asgore scrambles up on his feet, throwing his hands out to shelter Toriel behind him.

**WHY?**

**WHY MUST HE DO THIS?**

//

Gerson snaps his head over his shoulders as he throws his hand out to against the small platoon of guards rushing up the stairs. “Stay there!” he commands before slamming the training yard door behind him.

He meets the burning gaze of Asgore, but bends his eyes away to glance down at the cowering Boss Monster behind the Prince’s outstretched hand. Asgore bends his body down to shield her, whomever she is.

Gerson flexes his wrist. “Forgive me for this, my lady.” A cyan hammer forms in his hand, which he grips with his clenching hand.

“But the Prince and I are going to have to discuss a few things.”


	21. Too close to the flames

“Please follow the guards to detainment, my dear. I will arrive after I’m done with the Prince here to discuss with you.” Gerson motions calmly for the door behind him. “Make this easier for all of us.”

Toriel tilts her head up to Asgore, who turns his around to meet her eyes. They’re just as soft as they were but a minute ago when the two of them…

But it’s all for show. She can see the burning hate, and overwhelming fear that he’s truly feeling.

Maybe she should leave. If it’s the easiest way.

Asgore.

She’ll do it for him.

Make the best out of this situation. He took a risk, the best she can do is help him weather the consequences. She’ll manage.

She’ll manage...

Toriel takes a step forward.

//

No!

Asgore shoves his arm in front of her again.

She’s not leaving without Asgore leading her out! He got her into this! It’s his fault! He’s getting her out of this! Even if it means-

“Asgore?”

“No,” he says carefully to Toriel. “Don’t.” His eyes become bitter and narrowed as he turns back to face Gerson. “You’re here because of me.” Asgore throws his other arm out, his cape following the movement like a banner raised in proud defiance. “And you’ll leave safe and sure.” He flexes his wrist, “Because of me,” and his red trident materializes in a red flash, surging out of his hand as it forms its shape.

“I’ll go if it means that you’ll be safer, Asgore. If it means-”

Asgore silences Toriel with a tense movement of his shoulder. Not threatening, but just stern enough for her to understand that this is what he’s chosen to do. It’s not something he’d ever want to do. Raise his hand against her to stop her. To do it against her.

It hurts him, even more so as he’s still feeling the warmth of her magic inside of him. Him standing in her way though, even if it is to protect her, it’s…

It’s dosing water on her flame.

He’s helping her, even if it feels the complete opposite for him, and most probably her as well.

“We’re leaving,” Asgore states. Not asks, not pleads, not anything besides stating what is going to happen. Nothing else is. The two of them are leaving this training yard. Him escorting her until he knows she’s safe. “The two of us. I brought her here.”

“And I’m bringing her away from here,” Gerson replies as he takes a step forward with his hand outstretched towards Toriel.

//

His eyes though.

They’re not angry towards her. Nor against Asgore.

They’re...pleading. Pleading for her.

Towards Asgore the turtle’s eyes are…they’re...sorrowful?

But…

“She knows she’s not supposed to be here as a civilian,” Gerson continues. “She knows the law, and she chose to break it. Let her stand her own.”

//

All that talk! All that which he’s been drilling into Asgore!

And now?

“I’m walking her out the door!” Asgore roars against Gerson. His voice has the rows of staff quivering from the boom of his voice. “Let me take responsibility for my people! You’ve hammered that in me for over ten years, and now you’re telling me otherwise? Explain yourself!”

He’s just gonna throw that all away? Now that Asgore is standing up like Gerson’s always said that he would?

Pathetic!

Disgusting!

“I need not explain myself, Asgore. You already know why.” Gerson again nods to Toriel. “Follow me, please.”

Don’t he dare involve her like this!

“No!” Asgore takes a step forward, pressing his foot down into the ground. “She is not following you! Not you! My duty is to my people! For how long have you told me that? Told me just as many times as she’s heard the Town Criers propagate the image of a Prince I could never live up to be, so now you don’t believe it yourself?”

Gerson’s brow furrows in response to his lifetime pupil.

//

More sorrow…

Asgore? Can’t he feel it?

It’s radiating out of Gerson like a storm.

//

“You have enough on your table right now without the rumors and whispering of your personal life, Asgore. You-” Gerson heaves his shoulders in a deep sigh. He shakes his head. “This entire castle is on edge. Even the tiniest insect flying past these perimeters would cause alarm, and here you’ve managed to allow a civilian inside.”

“I can get her out as silently.” Asgore motions for a nearby window. “We can-”

“The castle has been enveloped with magic,” Gerson interrupts while moving his hammer in a circle around him. “And that she’s managed to enter shows that the perimeter wasn’t set up in time, or that it’s weak. I can’t allow that knowledge to leave my influence.” Gerson lowers his head. “It’s my duty.”

“Then that is your decision,” Asgore retorts with a harsh point of his trident. “That is not something Toriel has to suffer through!” He turns around and offers his free hand to Toriel. “I’m disbanding the guards outside the door and walking her out. Your failures are not her problem.”

Gerson peeks an eye up from his hunched position. “The guards?” He drags a long breath, and throws his hammer behind him. The cyan magic slams against the door frame, twisting itself as a lock to hold the exit close. “You watch your tone with me, boy. You may be Prince, but I’m still your superior as a Royal Guard.”

How dare he!

“Gerson,” Asgore says with authority. “As your future king, I order you to let us through!”

“You are not my king yet, boy. Nor would I obey that command even if you were!”

Asgore releases Toriel’s hand, “Then I must consider this,” and places it firmly a shoulder’s width from his other hand on his trident, “an act of treason.”

“Treason? Have you lost your mind, Asgore?”

“Have I?” Asgore lets the trident in his hands fade away. He straightens his back while putting his arms behind it. “Sir Gerson!” he addresses with the authority given to him. His years spent being molded into the Prince they desired. Countless days and nights to make him an heir worthy of ruling the people he’s been tasked to protect. That Prince is now here!

And the first command he’s to issue?

“For acting against the interest of the Royal Family, which you’ve sworn to uphold, I hereby relieve you from your command and suspend your Royal Guards from service.”

“What?”

//

To protect the Royal Family and their interests, even if it means protecting them from said interest…

Toriel is that interest.

She leans into his view.

“Asgore, you can’t just-”

//

“It’s done! Let it be known that this day-”

A timid and apologetic hand is placed on his shoulder. A comforting warmth in any other context, like the lost context that brought upon this chain of events, returns to Asgore. He turns his head timidly, meeting Toriel’s eyes ever so soft, yet now with heartache teeming within.

//

“I’m sorry, Asgore.” Toriel says with a heavy soul and heart as she lets her hand slip off his shoulder. “I can’t watch you do this.”

With silent steps she walks up to Gerson, desperately pushing away the aura surrounding her.

Betrayal.

No, confusion.

Anger, but not at her.

“You prevented him from crossing a terrible threshold, young monster.”

Toriel stops a step away from the turtle following her with his eyes. She meets them. “Do you promise me that this is the best for him?” she asks under her ragged breath. “Please, please promise me.”

Gerson nods. No hesitation, no deliberating. Instantly he nods. Instantly he answers her. “I promise, fair lady.” He lets his cyan magic dissipate from the lock on the training yard door. “Now please follow the guards outside.”

Toriel’s eyes move to the door.

Don’t look over your shoulder.

This is not about you anymore. Not here.

“Toriel?”

His voice… So hurt. So…

No!

Don’t look back at him! Do it for him!

Toriel puts her hand on the door’s handle.

“Toriel?”

“Good luck with the humans, Asgore,” she wishes. With all of her soul, with all of her magic. With everything she is.

“We’ll see each other again, Toriel. I swear!” comes an answer filled with anguish. Grief drips from every single syllable like the heaviest of rainfall. “I...”

Does she want to hear him say it?

“I...” Asgore’s voice fails him. Like a boulder dragging his throat down.

Toriel already knows what he wants to say.

And she does too.

The door is closed gently behind her.

//

“If you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at me, Asgore. Not her. It was her choice, and she chose what was best for you. Don’t doubt that.” Gerson pushes away from the door he closed behind Toriel. “Now, please, follow me to your quarters so that you can-”

“Not even gonna let me breathe, are you?” Asgore grabs the collar of his plate armor, twisting it between his fingers. “Not gonna allow me a second to take this in?”

“You will be able to focus your meditation better if you’re in your room.”

“Is that so!”

Why the absolute hell does he continue to pretend that Asgore’s got a choice in the matter? Why does he keep this facade up? Some sick and twisted delusion that Asgore’s gonna be a King, yet still follow the heinous orders given to him?

Gerson has gone over the line. Stepped over it, and erased it with his foot. Moved it closer to Asgore while pleading blissful ignorance.

Disgusting.

“I can feel it in your aura, Asgore. I know this looks as it does now, but you have to put this beside you, for now. The humans-”

“It’s always about the humans!” Asgore roars back. “It’s never about monsters! It’s never about me! Always the humans! The justification for all that you’ve done for me has always been because of the humans!”

Gerson takes a determined step forward. “And once you meet them you’ll understand how right I’ve been in my choices. Don’t believe for a second that I’m not torn about this!”

“Second?” Asgore throws his arm out, slashing the air as if it was soft butter. “How about days, weeks, months? As many years as you’ve had nothing but contempt for my efforts. Never good enough! Always another hill to climb, and never a plateau to rest on. Never a pat on the back without a swing of your staff immediately afterwards against my head. To protect me? To help me learn? Never have you stopped and consulted me. Never have you looked underneath the wing you’ve taken me under for barbs and thorns stinging me constantly.”

Asgore grabs his head as it turns light. He greedily inhales, but it’s not enough!

“And these past weeks! These weeks of me forgetting who I am. What I should be like as a monster! I’ve become human in all but form and soul, and if you could, you would’ve molded me that way without the slimmest of hesitation, Gerson!”

Asgore collapses down on his knee as he chokes for air. He takes support to hold himself up by pushing the flat of his hand down on his knee. Had there been a walnut, a skull, a brick, between his hand and his knee, it would’ve turned into dust.

“The only reason that I haven’t collapsed. The only torch I’ve had guiding me back to being a monster. She’s...she was all I had, Gerson! And you told her to leave me! You told her to turn her back on me!”

“Don’t! Make! This! About! Her! Asgore!” Gerson roars before throwing his closed fist against the door.

//

…

But he promised!

Then what was that sound?

Did any of the two-

“Keep moving,” orders the guard behind her.

Toriel puts her hand up to her mouth, subduing it. She can’t falter now.

Do it for him.

//

“She is your people, Asgore. She is what you’ve been training for to protect. Don’t put your anger on her. I won’t allow you to. I won’t allow you to misguide your frustration. I am here! Be mad at me! But don’t you dare raise your nose against her, boy!” Gerson sighs. He pushes his hands against his forehead before letting them run down his face. “Have I failed?”

Oh that’s rich!

Despicable.

Gerson seeks Asgore’s eyes, but he won’t let him. He should’ve never done! Asgore knows this now. What he spoke with Toriel about. What she could hear what he could finally say. That he’s been used, that he’s been portrayed as someone else.

It’s all come to light.

And the source of it is standing at the door, lamenting **himself!**

How dare he?

“Years of my life.”

His life?

“All that I’ve given.”

He’s given?

“When I was tasked with your training, Asgore, I declined at first.” Gerson glances down at his hammer. “This burden I was asked of, a heavy one. A task greater than any one monster should be asked of.” He lets it fade away while slowly closing his hand and letting the hammer fall down on his leg as it becomes completely translucent before disappearing completely.

“What are you trying to say, Gerson?” Asgore’s hesitant to calm down, but something in Gerson’s aura has changed. Something he just briefly caught before, and something he’s argued over himself if it was true or not.

Fear.

No argument any longer that it’s there...

“I can’t tell you of it now, Asgore. Forgive me, but I have to keep you focused for your mission. I’m asking you one more time before I’m forcing you.” With a solemn hand, Gerson motions for the door behind him. “Return to your room. Work off this energy, this anger, curse my name if you have to. Imagine it to be me, and attack me until there’s nothing left. Collapse exhausted, and rest up until your mission.”

He’s lying! He’s-

“Please.”

Asgore flinches.

P-p-p-please?

Please?

From Gerson?

“Your mission is for your people, Asgore, and if you’re not at your sharpest...” Gerson’s fist clenches harder, squeezing tighter audibly. “Toriel, she is your people. Have her as your beacon, your hope. Just not your anger. Everything but your anger. It will all...”

Is he...struggling with his words?

Gerson?

“She is the reason you’re going on this mission, Asgore. She is what you’ve trained yourself for. I promise you I will tell you my side of this when you’re done with your mission, Asgore, but not now.” He lifts his fist and taps it against the door behind him.

Weakly.

“Because if I do, then I’ll be putting her in danger, all of them will be in danger.”

“You’re...you’re lying, Gerson!” Asgore wants to throw his hand up! He wants to rebuke that! Not giving it an inch of ground.

But.

“Do it for her, Asgore.”

But...

“For your people.”

Dammit!

Asgore’s shoulders fall, and his hand seeks his face. He tenses his fingers around his temples. There’s still a lingering sense of Toriel left in his hand, but it’s quickly washed away as the tired tears begin to flow. Asgore throws them away! “Dammit,” he whispers, he doesn’t have any strength left for anything louder.

As he passes Gerson, a timid and apologetic hand is again placed on his shoulder. This one’s not accompanied by warm fur, but of scales. Rough scales, grabbing his shoulder.

“Thank you, my Prince.”

Asgore thrusts his shoulder forward, forcing Gerson to lose his grip.

“Not a word between us until the mission is over, Gerson.”

He opens his mouth to acknowledge, but closes just before speaking. He nods quietly instead, to respect Asgore wish.

First time for everything.

The door is slammed shut behind him.

//

“Has he been acting like that around you before?”

Toriel almost jumps out of her seat as the voice surprises her from behind. She’s been sitting here for...she doesn’t even know how long. It’s been long enough for her to descend into her own thoughts though.

Way too long.

Now Gerson is seating himself on the other side of the desk after opening a folder of some sort. The leader of the Royal Guard is taking her detainment personally.

Toriel’s worried, but not for herself. She has to be calm. For him. She promised him she’d make the best out of this situation, and that she will.

But what does ‘the best’ mean?

Gerson is staring at her now. His eyes are inspecting her. They look tired. Oh no! She hasn't answered him yet!

“Y-yes,” Toriel stutters out with a quick nod. Although, was that really wise to say that?

Gerson mirrors the nod. “He’ll make a good king because of you.” His head tilts down as he begins filling out, what looks to be, a form of some sort. “Thanks.”

Thanks? “T-thanks?”

The old turtle tilts his head up with his unamused eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “I’m not that old, child, no need to mock me.” He chuckles to himself as he returns his concentration to his form.

“I wasn’t-”

“It pains me to inform you that I can’t keep this under the table, my fair lady,” Gerson informs through an apologetic sigh as he refills his pen with a few quick dashes inside his ink container. “You’ve trespassed inside Royal Property, and during a time of heightened security. If I let this slide, then I show that I can let things slide. Doesn’t do me any favors as the head of the Royal Guard, does it?”

Wha...what is happening? Why is his tone so friendly? Where did the one he had with Asgore go?

Toriel answered her own question by asking it.

Something in his voice too. A slight tremble.

“I’m not angry at you, child,” Gerson assures with a smile and a soft motion of his hand. “On the contrary, I’m really happy for what you did. For what you had him do. It might not look like it at the moment, but this will be a learning experience for him. He did something unorthodox, and he failed at it. He’s known failure now, and that will humble him. He will want to succeed as well, and failure will come as a less of an impact to him in the future. You’ve done a good thing for him...Toriel was it?”

She nods timidly.

“Thing is,” Gerson moves his palms up and down like an ill balanced scale, “the two of you chose the worst possible day to do it at. Or maybe only he did. Or just you? Doesn’t really matter, and I’m not really that interested in the reasons you two did it today of all days. My focus now is on the aftermath and how to steel him with it. Unorthodox is good, makes you unpredictable.”

Toriel’s head is spinning. What is...what is anything right now? And didn’t he just… “Didn’t you j-just-”

Gerson puts up a friendly, but stern, hand. “When he’s the King he’ll have all the reasons to demolish these, to him, archaic rules, but he’s not king. Not yet. The rules are the rules now, and if he wants to change them he’ll need to do some damn good convincing and tackle it from an unconventional angle. Just like how he suggested the two of you should squeeze yourself through that unconventional window of opportunity. An unconventional way to learn where my defenses are slacking, so you have my thanks for that.”

Before Toriel can react, Gerson raises his index finger from his grip on his pen. “Nothing I can deduct from your arrest though, I’m afraid. I’m not adding anything to it though, which will be my thanks.”

Gerson hands Toriel the court order. “Be present at the time specified and this will be over smoothly.” He stands up and motions for the door. “I’ll escort you out.”

Toriel stands up on quivering knees. “T-thanks.”

Worryingly, Gerson reaches out for Toriel. “Can you walk on your own?”

There’s that friendly influx in his tone again. It sounds so...so weird to Toriel. It’s all spinning so violently inside her head. So much! She’ not sure... She doesn’t-

Gerson carefully eases Toriel back into her chair before she falls over. “Water, child?”

She nods as a sob escapes her.

Gerson halts as he reaches for the jug next to his desk. He turns his head over his shoulder to see Toriel with her hand pressed firmly against her mouth, and with her face contorting painfully. With a solemn nod he walks carefully over to the door, which he opens slightly ajar. “Prepare a cart for transport,” he orders to the guard stationed outside. As Gerson closes the door he meets Toriel’s eyes with his own calming ones. “It’s alright now. No one else will hear you.”

Is- Is it-

“Cry,” Gerson whispers.

Can she trust him?

“I promise it’ll never leave this room.”

She’ll have to.

Toriel’s shoulders quake violently as her sobs overwhelm her. She buries her head in her hands, and the tears begin to pool between her fingers. She heaves choke upon choke, coughing them out in sharp spurts.

“There’s water next to you when you feel like it,” assures Gerson.

“T-t-thanks,” Toriel replies in between a choke.

“Just get it all out, young one. I can wait.”

What has she done! With Asgore! She’s...she’s…

No! It’s all a farce!

Toriel’s elbow slam down on her knees.

She’s exhausted. Emotionally drained. She doesn’t know how to feel! She’s angry at herself! She’s happy with herself! Happy about Asgore! Worried about Asgore! Sorrowful about Asgore!

It’s all...

“You made a mistake, child, but this shouldn’t be too bad for you. I’ll see to it that you get daytime service.”

Gerson puts a, metaphorically, soft hand on Toriel’s shoulder. She doesn’t have the strength to look up. Maybe she’ll never have after today.

“This won’t stop you and Asgore,” Gerson says with a slight chuckle. “Come on now, child. I saw the look he gave you when he realized he was caught.”

Look?

Toriel tilts her head up to meet Gerson’s. She runs her arm across her eyes to push away these damn tears! A look? “What-” She’s forced to swallow away the chokes in her throat before she can speak. “What do you mean?”

“In that moment, when he thought everything was lost, there was only you left as his world collapsed around him.” Gerson pats Toriel on her shoulder before leaning himself back into his chair. “The only one he would die happy for was if you made it out alive.” Gerson nods with a sly wink to his eye. “I think he might fancy you! Wa ha ha ha ha ha!”

Toriel coils herself up. Hearing that kinda laugh from the leader of the Royal Guard after he’s figured out that Toriel and Asgore were…

How is Toriel ever going to make sense of today?

Gerson’s chair creaks as he leans forward with his forearms sliding along on his desk. His hands come together, but one of his fingers stand out, waggling softly towards his detained captive. “There was a glimpse in your eyes as well, Toriel.”

There was?

Gerson nods to Toriel’s silent question. Her expression posed it louder than she could ever speak it. “Nothing gets past these honed instruments of vision,” Gerson boasts while tapping next to his eye. He fumbles through a pocket at the side of his purple vest above the long sleeved white undershirt. “Here.” He presents a handkerchief for Toriel to use. “Use this to clean yourself up.”

Toriel takes it after a second’s hesitation. It smells...purple. Nothing else she can really put the smell to. As she cleans herself up, Gerson finishes up his paperwork. After she’s done she hands the embroiled handkerchief back to Gerson, who pockets it.

“Please sign here,” he asks Toriel to while tapping on a line at the bottom of a document with his claw. “To acknowledge your punishment of fifty hours of daytime service.”

Toriel picks the document up. Reading it through her eyes so strained, and through her mind so hazed, is neigh on impossible. She can barely fathom a single word.

“Don’t worry about your tavern’s status as a Royal Supplier, dear,” Gerson assures as he rounds his desk. “I’ll pull some strings.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Gerson stops halfway around the corner of his desk. “Sorry?”

Toriel puts the document back down. “Why are you acting like this to me, and not to Asgore? We’re...”

“He’s the Prince, and you are but a civilian in the eyes of the law and conduct. In his eyes though?” Gerson shrugs with an amused scoff. “You are an anchor he’s so desperately needed.”

“You haven’t helped him with that?”

Gerson’s eyes lowers, as does his posture. His eyes tilt ever so slightly downwards. “It is something he’s had to find on his own, I’m afraid. What I am to him… He would never have accepted it should I have suggested it to him. Too many strings, or chains, as he would put it, attached. He wouldn’t have seen it as something that is his own, but something with clauses.”

The door is knocked on thrice before Gerson acknowledges it. “Sir!” salutes a Royal Guard. “The transport you’ve ordered has been prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“Sir!”

The door is closed.

“For you,” Gerson informs Toriel. “You can barely stand on your own. Take it as a token of what I promised you, child.”

Toriel holds her eyes against his. Just...to make sure. To make sure he’s telling the truth. She can’t feel his aura right now. She can barely feel her own she’s so tired. She just needs to look this old turtle in the eyes.

To convince herself that he’s telling the truth.

He doesn’t blink. He allows her to challenge him. He has nothing to hide. Take as much time as you want. Without even uttering a word.

As long as she wants.

Wants?

She doesn’t want anything, not now.

Besides Asgore…

Signing the document is the best for him.

So that’s what she’s going to do.

Gerson nods as Toriel dips the pen in the ink. “Thank you, young monster. It’ll help me help him.”

“Will I see him again?” Toriel whispers as she finishes her signature.

“You will.” Gerson blows a few times on the parchment to dry the ink before he rolls it up along with some other forms he’s been writing on. “I won’t know that you will officially, but I know that you will. How could he not go look for you when he returns? Will you be there for him when he goes out to find you, Toriel?”

She nods, determined. “I will.”

Gerson smiles as he heads over to open the door. He waves Toriel through with a deep bow. “You’ve done him good, my child, and you will do him even goodlier. I’m glad that you’ve become his anchor, Toriel. You are of brave soul and magic.”

A small wooden cart stands just outside the corridor from Gerson’s office. At its front sits a hooded figure with a blue cloak concealing its form. It hums a melody to itself as Gerson walks up and whispers it something.

When he returns to the rear of the cart he helps Toriel up and again bows his head. Toriel does the same. As she moves it upright again she finds Gerson rummaging through his pockets. “Where did I- Ah!” He extends a small package in his hand. “He wanted you to have this.”

He did? Toriel takes it with caution.

With a quick nod from Gerson, the cart begins to move. He offers a playful smile to Toriel. “What a story this will be when I later tell of when I arrested the future queen of our kingdom.”

He then turns on his heels.

Not that Toriel notices.

Not that she can notice anything.

Not the uneven ride.

Not the humming from the cart’s driver.

Not the fact that she almost falls off multiple times as the cobblestone road begins.

Not the irresponsible speed as the cart heads down the hill.

Not the sudden stop that almost breaks Toriel’s neck.

The small package almost slipping out of her hand she notices though. The smallest thing still him she has with her. Like a raging blizzard it flushes her with cold as the package slips through her fingers.

She catches it just barely.

“We’ve arrived. Tralalalala~”

They have?

Toriel looks around her.

Y-yes, they have. Back at her home.

She jumps off the cart, and it takes off without her even noticing.

Not the stairs creaking underneath her feet as she ascends up to her floor.

Not that she forgot to lock the door when she left.

Not the piles of dishes she ran off from when she remembered that she was to meet Asgore today.

That she was about to meet…the Prince.

A figure catches the edge of her eye.

There, next to her bed.

A monster.

A white monster.

A Boss Monster.

With eyes puffy, muzzle snotty, entire body quivering.

In a commoner’s dress. Her dress. From her mother.

It’s her. It’s Toriel. The mirror shows how she is.

And where she is.

In a commoner’s apartment. A wooden room, with a worker monster standing alone on a rag carpet. As normal as can be. As common as can be.

“Q-q-q-q-queen?”


	22. Soot staining the white fur

Morning? Already?

Toriel turns away from the window she forgot she left open, away from the early morning sun casting its light as hard as it can at her face. Purple cover her vision, even with her eyes closed. 

Purple.

The same hue that surrounded her in the castle. Walls, roof, floor, Prince.

All of it…

Toriel opens her eyes. Get this purple away. For now, at least.

It still clouts her vision, still reminding her.

Worse yet, she turned away to sleep facing the window yesterday night so that she wouldn’t have to wake up to the gift Asgore gave her in that parcel.

Now that she’s turned herself back at it though…

Toriel sighs.

“Dammit.”

Did he know? How could he? Toriel’s family hasn’t been anywhere near noble for generations now, much less royal. The Delta Rune hasn’t been a part of her life ever since her grandma told her stories about it when Toriel was young.

About how once upon a time, her family was once shoulder to shoulder with the Royals at the time. Bestowed upon them was the Delta Rune for their service, prowess, and loyalty to the crown. A purple shield adorned with white wings of prophecy. 

A symbol of legend given to her family.

Toriel reaches out for it.

It’s cold in her hand. Light, but heavy for its size. In any other hand it would be large, but in hers it’s small.

Why would he give it to her?

Did he know?

Toriel unwillingly tightens her blanket around her as she flips the crest over in her hand. Perhaps there’s some inscription on it. Perhaps there’s-

No, nothing.

She flips it back, the purple again casting a dimmed hue over her palm as the morning sun sneaks its way through the gaps between her ears and horns.

Service to the crown…

She wasn’t gifted it when she delivered the soup, nor when her tavern became a Royal Supplier. Her family must’ve done something even greater than that to have earned it.

Greater than falling in love? Greater than having the other also fall in love?

Toriel’s fist fails to close as her fingers wrap around the rounded edges of the symbol. She releases it while exhaling a tired sigh.

Tired because she was woken up by the sun?

Maybe.

Tired because her heart’s been aching all night?

Definitely.

Even the Delta Rune is aching, the heart given to her family. Melodic pings, like the sprogs of a music box, quiver from it as Toriel’s tears fall heavily on it.

Still aching. Still confused. 

She hasn’t slept for a single minute. Whatever caused her to finally lose consciousnesses wasn’t sleep, but more in the realm of exhaustion. Mentally, physically. Both she strained, and both she’s feeling sore this morning afterwards.

Her body, her magic, her soul, her mind.

It hurts. All of it hurts so much!

Because she wanted it. She wanted it, she had it, she shared it, and then it became wrong. It became something she shouldn’t have done.

Because it made it worse for him.

She would do it again though. She would do it again until there was no time left for her to repeat! To spend those minutes again with Asgore, she would do anything.

“Anything?”

Toriel’s eyes are again drawn to the Delta Rune sitting in her hand now. It’s heavy now, and larger than anything she’s ever hold. Heavier on her body, magic, soul, and mind, than anything else she’s held.

Besides Asgore.

Would she really do anything? Go up and act like nothing happened yesterday? For his sake?

Would she?

She looks to the Delta Rune for an answer. Did her distant relative, whom earned this Delta Rune, did they also lie in bed the morning after their ceremony, pondering?

Asking themselves if it was the right thing, even if they fully well knew it was? Did they also suddenly feel the weight of responsibility pushing them down into their bed?

Did they also stare at the Delta Rune in their white, fur covered hand, while asking it for advice?

Toriel would like to believe that.

Then she can blame that it’s genetic.

She sighs, the fur on her hand swaying over the crest like wheat swaying over a boulder sitting awkwardly in the middle of the field.

“Don’t think.”

Oh how she wishes she wouldn’t. How she wishes she couldn’t.

But when she can’t feel it no more, then that’s all she has left. How much she felt last night, Toriel doesn’t know if she can ever do that on her own. If she can ever use her magic without feeling Asgore guiding her too. Without him inside of her.

She doesn’t want him to leave her though. Never.

Toriel extends her arm, tilting her hand up so that the Delta Rune faces her. Her eyes run across the pattern. The wings, the body.

She closes her eyes.

It sings. In her hand. The crest. Sings of its shape. How her fingers caress it, the smallest bend and angle. She imagines it, forms it inside her mind. 

Inside her soul.

As a wave of heat washes over her face, as it brushes past her cheek just like Asgore did his, Toriel opens her eyes again.

Hovering balls of fire bob silently behind her hand, their shape in perfect match with the Delta Rune in her hand.

Burning with passion.

Her ancestor must be proud over the display. The orange glow competing with the rays of the early morning sun, the perfect shape of the balls that match the Delta Rune she took inspiration from.

No way would she have been able to learn that during a day at the University.

Royal Lessons sure are effective.

Just hope that Asgore has had enough of them, wherever he’s heading now.

Toriel brings the crest in her hand closer to her chest as she lets her fire fade away.

//

“You should try and get some sleep once we get out of town, Asgore.”

Couldn’t even hold his promise for one day.

Asgore turns his shoulder on Gerson as he puts his head against the window.

“Appearances while we’re still in town, Asgore. I’ll pull the curtains on you once we’re out on the open road. I’m sure you want to be by yourself. Just knock on the roof if you wish something.”

Asgore straightens himself while spitting out a sigh. He’s too tired to argue with Gerson now. Not after last night. 

He’s spent. Everywhere. Head, body, soul. He can barely keep himself upright with his parade armor on. Any other day it’s like a second skin on Asgore, but this morning it’s like the weight of the world is upon him. Crushing his shoulders, making it hard to breathe.

He’s supposed to keep up appearances feeling like he does now?

If only Toriel was with him on this journey…

Although, how would she have fared against the humans if even Asgore is, to put it dangerously mildly, reserved to meet them?

Still, would’ve brightened up his travel.

She would be sitting next to Asgore in this silk padded cart, holding his hand, leaning her head on his shoulder, talking to him about...anything. As long as it was her voice, it could’ve been anything.

And the dress she’d have. Tailored for her instead of what’s she’s had every single time he’s been with her. It looks good on her, no doubt. Nothing would ever look bad on her, but what if she had something tailored for her. Her, and no one else.

Asgore’s eyes move over to the empty seat next to him. Padding undisturbed from her weight. Although, that wouldn’t have been the word he’d use should she’d been there. The complete opposite.

His arm, free of hers being wrapped around it. Free of the warmth and softness that would’ve been conjoined like grace itself became manifest. Manifest as Toriel, in a dress purple of color, just like Asgore’s robe. Arm locked in his, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. Mouth talking about…

What would she say to him? What would he say back?

Asgore’s mind floods with her voice.

“You’re expecting me to cook the soup when we arrive, I’m guessing?”

Asgore shakes his head.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he’d reply, leaning his head on top of hers. “I’ll have you make your pies. The humans have spices and confectionery that would fit perfectly with your cooking.”

She’d scoff, and push at his ear leaning over her head like wet laundry hanged to dry. It’d swung like a pendulum across her cheek.

“Is that so, my Prince?” she’d reply with snark while nudging her head further underneath his chin. “Well, you know my price for my cooking.”

And they would kiss.

Kiss and never let go.

Like she promised…

Like he promised…

“Just a couple more minutes until you can rest for a while,” Gerson promises after waiting for Asgore’s dragging sigh to die down. “We’ll be out of the town soon. Then we’ll finish the disguise and you’ll be like any other cart on the road.”

Just like the morning outside, it only now dawns on Asgore. He’s gonna be inside this cart for weeks! 

It’s less than two of his lengths long, one and a half wide, and barely more than his length tall from the seat.

Weeks…

Weeks spent away from her.

Weeks spent in a prison cell. A well decorated prison cell, but a prison cell nonetheless.

For her.

Do it for her.

His people, and for her. 

For her he’ll weather anything, and for his people he will too.

But weather doesn’t mean sunshine. Weather can just as easily mean everything but clear sun, and with it only now rising from behind the hills of yonder, it only barely shines through the drapes Gerson pulls close.

The rough and uneven ground underneath becomes smoother, and the cart slows to a halt. Asgore can hear and feel the driver jump off as the cart bobs from side to side.

“We’ll be doing some work on the cart before we head off, Asgore,” he explains as he pulls down a mundane cloak from the clothing hook next to him. He throws it over him and pulls the hood over his head. From underneath it Asgore can see the mouth that’s spent years upon years pushing everything from him. It’s quivering, unsure what to say. If it even can say anything right now.

What it really wants to say.

Gerson pulls the hood further down, hiding his mouth in enough dark that Asgore loses sight of it.

He stands up and takes a hold of the door’s handle. “Stay here.”

He stops with the door slightly ajar. “I didn’t mean it as-” Gerson clears his throat to interrupt himself before jumping out of the cart and closing the door behind him.

“Ten minutes, people!” he shouts once outside. Immediately after, the cart begins to shake along with a myriad of noises from all around Asgore.

He begins removing his armor. Unbuckling his breastplate, his greaves, legs, shin guards, and shoving them underneath his seat. From the hidden compartment he takes out his disguise that he dons. Garments that will make him like any other monster traveling the roads. He closes the lid to the hidden storage with the heel of his foot before putting it up on the far end of the seat.

He can’t deny that he isn’t curious, god forbid even a little bit excited, about the deceit. To travel under disguise brings back memories of long before when his father embark on a similar journey. He and Asgore would play as he would try out different disguises and Asgore would guess if it really was his father.

Asgore scoffs as the memories amuses him.

No such decision was given to Asgore, no. Too important of a mission for him to pick and choose himself what to cross the country as.

Traveling cookery with Toriel acting as the head chef would’ve been his choice.

She wouldn’t even have to act.

The noises stop.

“Good time, people!”

Again the cart shifts from side to side as the seats outside the cart is mounted. A few seconds later the rough terrain begins again.

Hopefully it’ll lull Asgore to sleep.

//

“Morning, Toriel!”

“Morning...”

Oh for crying out loud!

Might as well have hung a sign around Toriel’s neck with glowing letters spelling ‘I’m not fine right now!’ while a Town Crier repeats the same behind her at the top of its lung and with a parade of church bells behind wailing their mightiest on it.

Toriel heads down into the kitchen, fully aware that Krygino is going to follow her downstairs and ask what’s wrong.

“What’s wrong, Tori?”

Barely had time to put on her working gown. He must’ve waited until he was sure she had that on her. 

Toriel sighs heavily as she slumps down on the chair, creaking like a falling tree as she does. Her forehead drowns inside her palm as she runs it back and forth across her furrowed wrinkles.

“That bad?” Krygino nods up the stairs. “You want to come back a bit later?”

“No, I need to be here a bit,” Toriel answers while letting her head dangle. “Need to think, and I can’t do it at home because...”

Her teeth bite down on her tongue before she can finish.

“Nothing you want to tell me? I’m all ears.” Krygino offers with a soft tone. Eerily similar to the one Gerson had yesterday. Same understanding, yet still encouraging, and a bit curious, tone that promises that it’s fine if Toriel wants to share. He’ll understand, he’ll help.

“No,” Toriel shakes her head tiredly. “Nothing.”

Krygino waits for a few seconds before nodding. “I’ll be behind the bar then.”

“You do that.”

Krygino closes the hatch behind him, shoving the door stop underneath so that it’s kept slightly ajar. Toriel snaps her finger underneath the stove before standing up to fetch and begin peeling the potatoes. As she passes her dress she spots the reason she actually decided to come to work today.

How the hell did she manage to forget?

Well...many reasons.

At least she reminded herself.

“Kryg?” she addresses while pushing up the kitchen hatch with her hand so that he can enter. “There was something...”

He heads down again without a word and seats himself on the sacks of potatoes. Before he can get comfortable, Toriel presents to him the parchment Gerson handed her yesterday. She heads back over to her chair to wait for Krygoni’s reaction.

She waits.

And waits.

And waits…

As he reads.

And reads.

And reads again.

And again…

“Toriel?” he asks in a whisper. “What...what happened yesterday?”

“A lot,” she answers.

“The castle? The-” Krygino’s mouth fails him as he reads the parchment again. “Trespassing during heightened security?”

Toriel nods.

“You did that, Toriel? You? At the castle?”

He’s so confused. Not angry, his ears are too straight for him to be angry.

“Why? What happened?”

Toriel’s teeth again bite down on her tongue.

But it’s Krygino! It’s...she can’t lie to him! Not after all he’s done! He deserves to know. If there’s anyone in the entire world that deserves, it’s him.

After all he’s done…

“Do...” Toriel has to fight her jaws from shutting close tight. “Do you remember a while back when...that hooded monster came in? Jyuona dared me to go out and talk to him and...”

“And he lied to you.” Krygino skims the parchment again, but he finds no name beside Toriel’s and Gerson’s. “Did you go up to the castle for revenge? Was he a Royal Guard?”

“No.” Toriel has to pause for a bit before she can continue. “No, he’s not. I...went out on a second date with him.”

“You...” Krygino’s ears falls down behind him. Stunned. Completely stunned. “You did? But…you said.”

“He...turned out to not be the one I thought he was. Someone I could...be with.”

“Be with?” Krygino slowly closes the parchment in his hands. “How do you mean by that, Toriel? Did he...do something to you?”

Worry. Dread and worry.

“No.” Toriel shakes her head. “We...both wanted to.”

“I-I...” Krygino’s throat expands double fold as he swallows hard. “I see, Toriel. Him and you, you did something...together...at the castle?”

Toriel nods.

“Then who was it? Was it a Royal Guard?”

“Ms. Toriel to report to the attending Royal Guard immediately!” comes a commanding shout from upstairs. “Daytime service to begin!”

Toriel stands up.

“By order of the Crown!”

“Crown?” Krygino repeats under his breath. His face freezes as his eyes widen. “Crown...” he says again. “Under that hood… I thought it was just my imagination...”

Krygino, with all his might and effort, turns his head around, catching Toriel just before she takes a step up on the stair. 

She nods carefully.

“It wasn’t.”

And ascends the stairs.


	23. Fading candles

“Of all the people I would run into today. And here of all places!”

What? 

Toriel turns her head around to face the voice. 

It can’t be.

“I can’t tell who is more surprised. Me seeing you, or you seeing me.”

Toriel can’t…

“Jyuona?”

She extends her arms while dragging a smile. “In the magic.”

“W-what are you doing here?” Toriel asks after dumping her sack of hay into the nearby hopper. 

“Delivering sacks of hay for you to grind into flour, apparently,” Jyuona answers after setting down the two sacks she brought with her. She stretches her arms out up and behind her head as she drags a long inhale. “Only two or three hundred more to go. It’s too bad I couldn’t just be baking them like you do, Tori.”

Yes...but…

“Don’t look at me like that, Tori.” Jyuona drags her hands over her body. “You know how I am, girl. It was a mistake this time, I promise.”

Like she said about the previous time too…

“Drayk doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have to. This is the last time. Me having to decline to go out with him because I’ll be doing my punishment is double the punishment. You’ll do an alibi for me, Tori? Please? If he asks, not that he would, but if he does, can you say that I was doing something else? Something, um, legal? I’ll owe you for this. I know it’ll be adding another to the pile, but I can’t have him know, you know?”

Uh... “Yeah, sure.” 

Jyuona sinks down onto the sacks she brought in. “Thanks.” She wraps her arms around her knees and rests her forehead on them. “You see,” she sighs into the cavern she’s created. “I think Drayk might have a bit of an effect on me.” She scoffs a chuckle while again sighing wishfully. “I want to do good, because then I can spend more time with him, and then I won’t have to lie to him too. If I do good with myself, then I’ll deserve him.”

“You don’t think you deserve him now?” Toriel asks over her shoulder before helping the hopper sift the hay with a few hearty tugs on it.

“You know that I’m gonna say no, Tori.” Jyuona throws her shoulders up in a haphazard shrug. “So why ask?”

Good question.

“Just felt like I wanted to,” Toriel answers. She doesn’t really have another reason too. Her reasons are a bit few at the moment with yesterday still looming over her like a cloud just waiting to start raining over her. It’ll make the dough all sticky and she’ll get stuck in it.

The flour underneath Jyuona’s feet crumble like fresh snow as she heads over to check on Toriel’s progress. “You’ll be the first one to know when I feel like I can answer ‘yes’, Tori. I promise you that.” She summons a quick smile before heading back to where she put down the sacks. “Might happen. Maybe not soon, but might happen.”

Toriel checks the hopper to see if it need refilling. “That’s good, Jy,” she answers while her eyes and head is occupied with the milling process. Doesn’t seem to need refilling just yet, so Toriel should check on the oven to see how the current batch of bread is doing. “I’m glad to hear you beginning to turn a new leaf. I won’t lie and say that it hasn’t been a long time coming.”

“You know my reasons,” Jyuona whispers away from Toriel.

It’s still completely audible to Toriel. “I know your reasons,” she repeats as she carefully opens the oven hatch. Fire still roaring inside, bread still baking comfortable in the heat. Toriel closes the hatch while wiping the heat off her face. 

“Few things have been able to make me forget her, Tori. Drayk though… It’s like she never existed when I am with him, and I still have to get over the fact that I feel horrible for thinking that.”

“You’ll figure something out, Jy.”

“You promise, Tori?”

Toriel wipes off the flour on her dress before opening up her arms for Jyuona. “I promise.”

Jyuona accepts the hug, with plenty of interest stacked on. She sighs over Toriel’s shoulder. “I’ll be seeing him tomorrow night. Hopefully I’ll figured something out by then.”

Toriel nods as she gently lets go of Jyuona. “Me too, Jy.” She meets Jyuona’s eyes and nods again to make sure she heard. She did, and nods back with a smile.

“Maybe you should check on the mill, Tori. It’s starting to slow down.”

“Oh! Right!” Toriel scuttles over with a few long hops.

Jyuona follows Toriel crossing the room with her eyes. “So what did you do to deserve this baking?” she asks with her chin firmly planted on her arms. “Did the Prince not appreciate the soup well enough?”

Toriel freezes.

No! Why? Jyuona will realize!

Dammit! 

Jyuona’s eyes widen. “T-Tori?” 

Move! Anything! Blink! Move anything on your damn body!

“W-why did you s-stop like that, T-Tori?”

“I...”

“Was it because I mentioned him?” Jyuona asks immediately afterwards with her voice piquing like a failing trumpet. “T-t-t-the Prince? You’re? Dating? The Prince?”

Toriel’s body finally thaws, but it does so in a defeated heave and exhale. She slowly tilts her head over to Jyuona, stunned and confused. “Yes...” Toriel answers with guilt overflowing.

Jyuona swallows her voice along with any semblance of understanding. She lifts her arm, but it falls down immediately as she just shakes her head. “How?” she asks the sacks she’s sitting on. “How? The Prince? Why?”

“Jyuona-”

“And you!” Jyuona throws accusingly at Toriel with a harsh slash in the air. “You! Of all monsters! Toriel? With the Prince? I don’t...”

Jyuona can’t fall down faint, she’s already sitting. Her hand fumbles for anything to support her, and she finally finds a nearby mill to rest her weight on. In her dazed state she doesn’t realize that the mill is operating. Toriel hurries over to move Jyuona’s claws out of the way from the spinning slab of stone. As soon as her hand touches Jyuona’s, she drags it close to her, almost as if Toriel’s fingers were venomous.

“I...I don’t even know who you are any longer, Tori,” Jyuona laments through a confused sob. Her chest heaves sporadically, like a fire bellow, with her breathing just as sharp. “Of all people. With the Prince?” She shakes her head as her lips starts quaking. “How?”

“...I think you can guess how, Jy.”

Saying it like that sounds like an admission, like Toriel’s guilty of something heinous. Like she’s betrayed her friend by doing what she did.

“All the time we spent against the castle, Tori?” Jyuona asks, to herself, in an attempt to understand. “You and me, two commoners with feet on the ground, against the castle with all of its heads in the clouds.” Her voice again fails her and she grabs her head. “Of all the people I thought I could understand!” she screams through a throat so hoarse, so pained.

“I’m still me, Jy. I’m still your best friend. Please!” Toriel reaches over for her friend, but Jyuona moves her shoulder out of the way, letting Toriel grab nothing else but empty air. “I’m still Toriel. I promise.”

Jyuona’s heavy breathing relaxes as she runs her eyes over Toriel. Up and down. Down and up. Side to side. “I don’t understand, Tori.” She chokes on a weep. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain.” Toriel sits down. No chair, no sack, no nothing. On the floor. No time to make herself comfortable when Jyuona is feeling like she does now. “Will you let me?”

Jyuona nods weakly after a couple of seconds. “I’m so confused, Tori.” She moves as if she wants to embrace Toriel, but she hesitates, and leans further back instead. “The Prince...”

“He’s not the Prince we’ve heard about, Jy,” Toriel begins while looking down. “He’s...” Her head moves to the side, towards the door. “He’s not the Prince the Town Criers have been spouting about for so many years.”

Jyuona doesn’t answer. Her head burrows into her shoulders as she turns quietly on her side, facing away from Toriel.

“He was the one you convinced me to go talk to, Jy.”

Jyuona snaps her head back towards Toriel, eyes beginning to flame up like flint and steel struck inside a full barrel of oil. “But he lied to you!” She scrambles to stand up, but her feet only slip on the spilled flour littering the detainment bakery. “I cried because I was worried for you, Tori! You told me he lied to you! You had me so worried, and then you went back to him? I thought you’d… That he’d...”

Toriel’s ear flop behind her head as she averts her eyes from Jyuona. Too late though, Jyuona already saw enough to stumble on her words again. She almost melts into the wheat sack, mouth quivering in bewilderment.

“Did you...” Jyuona blinks hard to try and wake up from this troubled dream she’s found herself in. She’s as awake as she’s ever been though. This is real. This is a reality she never thought she’d find herself in, but here she is, with her best friend. A best friend that’s…

“I joked about it,” Jyuona whispers, her words failing to better her grasp on the ordeal. “I bumped your shoulder, I leaned on you humorously. Nudged your side, and you blew your tongue back at me, Tori.” Jyuona forces eye contact with her best friend, who’s always been a bulwark of stability, but is now blushing with guilt. “But you...you made love to the Prince?”

The question hangs in the air as a long and heavy silence falls thick over the two friends. Like a blanket, one that Toriel wishes she could wrap around her and hide away.

But should she do that, then she’d admit against Asgore, against what they did together. The moment they shared, the fire they kindled. 

No, it’ll be unfair to him. To what he’s going through right now. She promised him to make the best out of the situation, and her denying it happened is spitting in the face of that promise.

Jyuona has to understand. She has to let Toriel explain!

“We did.”

Jyuona’s mouth trembles. “We?”

Toriel nods. “Together. Him and I.”

“Tori...”

“It was wonderful.”

“Tori.”

“I love him.”

“Tori!”

“And he loves me too!”

Jyuona recoils from Toriel’s roar, almost backing into the stone mill again. The bulwark came charging back, intimidating as a hundred guards with weapons raised and ready. Her muzzle twists into a determined grin, flashing teeth gritted together in defiance. 

“I’m here to protect him. To give him solace and peace of mind. He’s on his way for a mission with the humans, Jy! A mission that I jeopardized!” Toriel pushes her clenched fist against her chest as tears begin to form in her quaking eyes. They crash against her ears as she thrusts her head forward. “He’s off to meet who knows how many humans, with intentions unclear to me! I’m afraid, I fear for his well being. He’s doing it to protect me, to protect his people, and I put more strain on him by giving in to what I wanted! What he wanted too! We both did! I’ve never felt as wanted as I did with him. I’ve never felt that I wanted more when I was with him.”

Toriel drags a solemn inhale through her voice so weak and broken. “And now I ask myself if I did wrong…” Her hand opens up against her chest, which she grabs as hard as she can. “It aches! My heart aches when I imagine what consequences I’ve brought upon him. We shared ourselves, but now that we’re separated… Him miles away, on a mission to protect us against the humans, and me here, on a mission to right what I did wrong. Wrong… Did I do wrong? That’s what I can’t understand!”

//

Jyuona struggles to form words. She...she tries, but she’s not sure what to say. If she can even say anything. It’s so…confusing, again, but not like before. This dream, it’s turned into something different, something like a fairy tale. A legend.

But it’s here. It’s in front of her. Real as can be. Her best friend, and the Prince.

Right what Toriel did wrong? A mistake? What did she do wrong?

Jyuona chokes as she realizes. Her breathing turns sharp again, but not for herself.

For her best friend.

Her best friend that’s now shaking as she tries to understand. She’s explained to Jyuona, and paid with having to question herself. 

“W-wrong in…” Jyuona’s mouth finally opens to her will, and the words spill out. “L-loving him?”

“I...” Toriel’s voice begin to choke. She tries to swallow, but it only hurts further. “I...” Her hand loosens from her chest. “I don’t know!” 

A cloud of flour forms as she crashes down on the floor. Weeping, sobbing, creating small clumps of salty dough as her tears fall from her eyes.

No. 

No no no no!

Toriel can’t. Jyuona won’t let her!

She won’t let her friend make the same mistake she did!

“Toriel!” Jyuona shouts as she forces her arms underneath Toriel’s shoulder. “Don’t say that! Never say that!”

She feels her friend lean over her. Her chin resting on Jyuona’s shoulder, and Jyuona putting hers on Toriel’s.

“You can’t do this, Toriel. I won’t let you!” Jyuona squeezes Toriel tighter towards her. “You can’t think of love that way. I won’t allow you to! Not when I know what I’ll lead to.” And tighter. “You will not fall into the chasm I fell into, Toriel!” And tighter. “I won’t allow it!”

And tighter.

“When she died, Tori, I asked myself if it was because I loved her. If it was because of me that it happened. Was it because I loved her, encouraged her to give in to her feelings towards me, that she...”

Jyuona begins to choke as her words clog her throat.

No!

She has to explain! She has to tell Toriel!

She owes her that much.

“I spent nights, days, weeks, months, always thinking, always wondering if it was my fault. If it was because of our shared feelings that it happened. That led to me never seeing her again. I was disgusted by myself when I saw the person that I felt killed her in the mirror! A monster that looked exactly like me, a murdered, because she dared love.”

Jyuona pushes herself back, putting her forehead on Toriel’s. Her determined gaze locking with Toriel’s quaking eyes with tears overflowing. “You’re not gonna see the same monster. You’re gonna see you, Toriel. You’re gonna see someone you’re proud of, someone you know deserves a Prince.”

Jyuona has to pause to process what she just said. To let the realization sink in.

Toriel is dating the Prince…

Toriel is dating the Prince.

She is.

And that’s wonderful.

That is the most wonderful thing Jyuona has ever heard!

Toriel’s found someone.

She couldn’t be happier for her friend.

“Never. Ever! Think like I did, Tori.”

Jyuona drags a rugged breath as her tired hands slide down Toriel’s dress, creating a cloud of disturbed flour as her hands land heavily on the wooden floor. Her chin slips down on Toriel’s heaving shoulder.

“Promise me, Tori.”

No answer.

“Promise me!” The desperation in Jyuona’s voice could move mountains, but can it get through to Toriel?

Please.

Please!

Please let it go through!

“I...”

Please…

“I promise, Jy.”

Jyuona’s sigh of relief almost knocks the stone mill over. She again embraces Toriel, who returns it warmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You too,” Jyuona whispers back.

//

A sharp smell hits Toriel’s nose.

Oh no!

The bread!

“Phew!”

Just in time.

“Is it burnt?” Jyuona stretches her neck, but she can’t see over Toriel’s hunched over shoulders. “Tori?”

“It’s very golden brown, but not burnt,” she answers with a sigh of relief.

Jyuona sinks back into her seat of sacks. “Good.” She presses her palms together as she waits for Toriel to finish inserting a fresh tray of bread dough into the oven. Toriel then puts a cloth over the golden brown pieces she saved in the nick of time.

“A lot has happened these last weeks.”

Toriel nods. “It has, Jy.”

“The two of us, finding someone we want to spend time with.” Jyuona scoffs as she shakes her head. “Almost at the same time too.”

“Remember that monster that shouted during your date with Drayk, Jy?” Toriel asks as she sits down next to her friend.

She turns her head curiously over to Toriel. “Was that you?”

“Yes, it was me.”

“Did you have to do it to please the Prince?”

“Yes, but not in the way it sounds.” Toriel leans forwards on her knees. “It was the first time he’d heard about it. About the Town Criers. He was unaware, oblivious to them.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just leaning on you?”

Toriel shoots over a pair of confident eyes. “He didn’t even know how to read street signs, Jy.”

“Oh...”

A chuckle escapes Toriel, and she puts up a hand to her mouth to not have it create a cloud of flour. “Yeah… He was also the same monster that Drayk talked about, Jy. The one that sat down not wanting to move.”

Jyuona can’t believe her ears. She… “Wow...” That’s all she can say.

“We’ve been close, but so far away from each other, Jy. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you to understand. I’m still trying to get over him being the Prince.” Toriel looks at the door again with a heavy heave to her shoulders. “I’m worried about him.”

“I can understand that, Tori,” Jyuona offers as support. “Traveling for a mission with the humans, even if he was the Prince the Town Criers have spouted all these years, must be scary.” She turns back to Toriel with a smile. “I’m sure he’ll make it though, Tori. He has you as motivation, remember? Can’t get more motivated than that.”

Toriel chuckles. Oh, Jyuona… Toriel’s so relieved over finally having revealed her secret. Jyuona really is something special. Toriel’s so grateful to have a friend such as her. “Thanks. For listening, and understanding, Jy.” She embraces Jyuona again. “I’m so happy that you understand.”

“I am too, Tori. I’m so glad that you’ve found someone, even if it is the Prince. You don’t settle for anything but the best, Tori.”

“Jyuona, please.”

“Because you deserve the best.”

Oh...

“I’m happy you’ve found someone as well, Jy. I hope to meet him sometime. I’ll make sure Kryg comps your drinks.”

“I’ll take you up on that promise, Tori!” Jyuona cheers with her arms high in the air. “I’ve already made it to Drayk, so...” she admits playfully.

Doesn’t surprise Toriel that she already has.

“Maybe even some Royal Purple?” Jyuona nods with a smile. “From the Prince. I promise I’ll get over him being the Prince once I meet him too.”

“You might get over it before I do, Jy.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yeah. We’ll see.”

//

“Not far to go until we reach the human castle, Asgore.”

“My sense of distance is nonexistent at the moment, Gerson,” Asgore answers after waiting for the old turtle to climb back inside the carriage and close the door. 

“Do you feel ready?”

Asgore meets Gerson’s eyes with his own. He lets them hang for a long silence before moving them back out towards the rolling landscape. “If there ever was a dumb question to have been asked… Why would you ever bother with that, Gerson?”

Gerson sighs on his knees, dragging the palm of his hand in circles on his forehead. The gentle quaking of the chariot has him almost poking his eye out as he massages his forehead. The silence continues for another long while, all the while Asgore and Gerson look out opposite windows.

“The humans have a beautiful country,” Asgore finally speaks as the rolling hills behind the nearby forest has him remembering those visible from his castle window. 

These hills he’s not viewing from high above though. The hills he’s familiar with, the ones of monsters, he’s always been above. An overhead view, to observe and take in as much as possible. From where he lived, from where him being a Prince back home was worth, he could see it all. The hills behind the hills, and the rivers behind those. Even catching a glimpse of the sea should he use his looking glass.

Here though?

Among the humans?

From where he’s sitting, and through the window he’s looking through?

Not even his looking glass could help him see the top of the hills, even less the ones behind.

No rivers dancing across the meadows as if painted by a child.

And no sea to be glimpsed.

Is this what all his weeks of training has led up to? 

To cower underneath the looming shadows of the hills of humans?

“You’re intimidated, Asgore.”

His head tilts down as his muzzle drags inwards.

“And I’m afraid that you’ll have to push that aside as quickly as possible.”

Wait...what is this?

“Gerson?”

It’s so…

“I feel it too, Asgore.”

Overwhelming!

Asgore snaps his head over to Gerson. “What is this?”

This aura! It’s so powerful! Surrounding Asgore, pushing him in from all over!

Gerson drags a steadying groan. “It’s the humans.”

The carriage turns dark as a deep shadow fills it. Asgore looks out the window again.

His soul almost shatters as he sees the massive hill standing defiant in the distance.

No, not a hill.

A mountain.

“That’s Mt. Ebott, Asgore,” Gerson informs without emotion.

Monsters as hills.

Mountains as humans.

From outside the carriage trumpets sound. They sing the arrival of the Monster Prince!

“Asgore,” Gerson says with a heavy voice. He tilts his head up, and motions for the door of the carriage. “It’s time to protect your people.”


	24. Fire snuffed out

“Just a few more steps, Asgore.”

…

….

………..

.

“You have to straighten your back.”

……

….

…………

….

..

“Nod to your left.”

……..

“To your right.”

……….

…

…..

“Down the stairs. Your carriage is at the end of it. You don’t have to turn around. I promise.”

!

?

…

! ? !

“Just shake his hand. It’s the last thing you have to do.”

…

“Your visit has done us much, dear Prince. I do look forward to the prosperous collaboration in our future. Know that we’ll pledge our allegiance to your magical kingdom. From the depths of our hearts, thank you for visiting us.”

…..

…

“Smile, Asgore.”

…..

“I wish you safe travels back to your castle, Monster Prince!”

….

…

!

Gerson closes the carriage door hard after him. He knocks his hand against the front facing wall to let the driver know it’s time to leave all the while keeping Asgore’s head upright as subtly as he can.

The cart lurches forward, and Asgore’s body tilts over. Gerson grabs hold of the Prince’s shoulder, and slowly pushes it up again.

A fierce heave is coughed out of Asgore.

“Just hold for another minute, Prince. You’re on your way home now. It’s over.”

“I...”

“Don’t. Speak. Save what remains of your strength.”

“…I-”

“Another minute, Asgore. We just need to round the corner.”

“Gerson...”

“A few more seconds.”

“Gerson.”

He can barely keep Asgore’s body upright.

But he has to!

“We’re still-”

“GERSON!”

He meets Asgore’s eyes. Eyes beyond tired, sunk in like two deep and dark wells empty of hope, love, empathy. Staring as if screaming from the void. Gerson can’t let him. Not now, just a few seconds more and it’ll be safe.

But. Not. Now!

The carriage wheel bumps over a rock in the road, its jerky movement translating to Asgore’ body which tumbles like a lifeless rag doll. Gerson can feel his entire being straining to its limit as he pushes with all his might to keep the Prince from looking vaguely alive to all the humans gladly cheering their well wishes from outside.

The festivities mustn’t falter! It’ll spell horrible for Asgore’s reign if they see him like this. No, no the human must see him be strong.

Just for a little bit more.

A sound, as quiet as a sound can be, climbs itself into Gerson’s ear. Not even a whisper. Too quiet and faint to be one.

It sends a cold shiver down Gerson.

He turns to Asgore’s head slumped to the side, looking at Gerson with his vacant eyes, too exhausted to even close by themselves.

Asgore’s lips part, just barely. It’s taken everything out of him just to move his lips, only to produce a hazy sigh as the air spills out of him. 

“Help...”

Gerson’s eyes glue to the window, to the shallowing sea of humans that Asgore’s been drowning in for the past few days, drifted ashore into Gerson’s arm like rotten driftwood.

“G...e...r...”

Gerson keeps his eyes still hard and locked on the window. 

“Just a little bit more, Prince,” he promises. It’s something he knows he can’t hold, but it’s the only thing he can do.

Still too many humans.

“G...e...”

Still too many.

“H...e…”

Still too many!

“G...”

Is it? Yes! It’s thinning out!

“...”

Just a few less! Please! Just a-

They’re gone…

The humans…

They’re-

Gerson drags the curtains close on the window facing the human castle in its still ongoing grandiose festivities.

“Other side!” he commands to Asgore as he lunges to open the window on the opposite wall of the carriage. He catches Asgore heads in his palms as it falls over by the gentlest breeze. The Prince, whom Gerson’s been training all his life, whom he’s seen grow up to be the strongest monster imaginable.

Faint, distant, vacant, and drained. His head choking inside Gerson’s palms.

No…

No!

The floorboards underneath Gerson’s feet creak in a deafening roar as he lifts up the slumped Prince on his shoulders. He leans the exhausted body up on the door facing away from the castle, nestling the chin to rest on the window sill. 

And finally...

Heave after heave.

Cry after cry.

Choke after choke.

Asgore can barely sob from the pain it causes him.

He can barely cry.

But he does.

It’s violent, it’s hurtful, it’s agony of the highest order to him. His entire body quakes in pain with each spew. His soul is drained of strength, of magic, of being.

But it’s nothing.

Nothing compared to the humans.

“G..e...r...s...o...n...”

He helps the Prince lean back safely inside the carriage again. 

“I’ve spent my entire life preparing you for this, Asgore,” Gerson says quietly as he eases his sworn duty down on his seat again, laying him carefully on his back. “To strengthen you against the humans.”

Asgore eyes, with the last strength present inside him, move over to Gerson.

Drops of heartache dot the floor, but the eyes drowning in tears aren’t Asgore.

His are too exhausted to produce any.

The tears, they flow from Gerson.

“But nothing I could ever do would’ve been enough, Asgore.”

The Prince’s eyes close.

“Forgive me...”

And he disappears into an exhausted sleep.

Gerson sits down on the opposite side of the carriage’s purple interior. His hands come together as the priestess enters, mortified over what she witnesses. She throws herself down on her knees and begins muttering under her breath as she lays her hands flat on Asgore’s chest and forehead. 

Gerson joins her in her prayer.

“Forgive me...” he speaks without strength.

//

It’s been a month now.

The thought strikes Toriel like cannon fire. Her hand clenches, crushing the potato she was about to peel.

It’s been a month now…

Her shoulders sink, and she exhales a lamenting sigh.

A month since Asgore left…

His features are beginning to fade inside Toriel’s mind. The way his beard parts when he smiled… How was it again?

Silly?

Endearing?

Both?

She throws the squished potato into the fire.

Dammit! She’s starting to forget!

Dammit...

She pushes some more of her magic into the stove to compensate for the squishy wetness of the potato disturbing it. It hisses angrily for a few seconds before calming down, succumbing to the flames summoned by Toriel’s magic.

She looks at her hand as a small ball of fire reamins in her palm, its orange flicker casting dancing shadows in the shape of her fingers on the roaring boil of the soup she’s preparing on the stove.

At least she still has this. Something to be reminded of him.

She lets the small crackling sphere ascend above her shoulder, providing a bit of warmth on it. She strained it pretty badly yesterday, some warmth will do her good.

It crackles as she tries to imagine Asgore’s smile again, sending an ember that glances off her shoulder with a quick sizzle.

Her hand again squishes the potato she just picked up in her hand. Second time she’s startled herself in the span of a minute, and both times because her mind wandered off to Asgore.

If there ever was a poster monster for hopelessly in love...

Introducing Toriel, the tavern maid who fell in love with the Prince! Went up to the castle to meet him and got arrested!

She’d make a perfect fit! A poster monster to be advertised across the land! A cautionary tale of how young women can be easily blinded by the splendor of upper class monsters, throwing their life away in the process!

And even worse, throwing the life of the monster she’s in love with in the process!

The entire country perhaps! All in danger because of her wandering through the classes all willy nilly and not expecting consequences. 

Toriel leans her neck back so that her second sigh doesn’t snuff out the fire inside the stove. It does lift the tavern above her a meter or so in the air as she exhales it along with her entire being.

Krygino won’t be happy about all the spilled drinks and food.

“Ow!”

Another ember hits Toriel in the neck. She swats the place as she believes herself feeling something catching fire.

Doesn’t smell like grilled Boss Monster though.

Toriel lets the fireball fade away since any more of her thoughts whisking her away from her focus on her magic will have her burn the tavern to the ground within the hour. Krygino will definitely have something to say about that, for sure.

Why did she even think she’d have enough focus to have it be stable enough?

She blows her lips, bathing the stove’s flames in exasperated raspberries.

“He’s fine,” she says out loud to herself. “He’s just fine. He’s the Prince, it’s what he’s trained his entire life for. No need to worry.”

Toriel can’t even lie to hersel-

“He’s the Prince!” she shouts, surely turning some heads above her in the tavern. She has too though, she has to make herself believe her own lie to stop herself from worrying. “He’s strong!”

And so must Toriel be.

For him...

//

Movement…

There’s movement around Asgore.

Is it the carriage? Is it moving?

He can’t tell.

Can he open his eyes to look?

No.

He’s too tired…

There’s only a faint sensation of movement rocking his body. Cradling, almost. It’s not warm though. He’s not being cradled. 

He misses her.

Toriel…

If only she was here. Then Asgore would’ve stood up! Then he’d have a reason to fight this exhaustion. She isn’t here though. She’s far, far away.

He’s so tired…

“Go back to sleep, your highness.”

That’s...Gerson.

“Don’t stress yourself.”

Don’t...stress?

Is that really Gerson’s voice saying those words?

Asgore carefully tilts his head over to the voice, but a gentle hand pushes it back.

Is it Toriel’s? Is she here?

No, it’s a scaly hand.

“Rest, Asgore.”

It’s Gerson’s voice...but...the words he speak…

Those aren’t Gerson’s.

What happened? Why is Asgore in a carriage? Why is he so tired? So exhausted?

And why is Gerson allowing Asgore to be like this? To be this tired? What happened to Asgore? 

Humans…

Humans?

Yes, humans.

No…

“Asgore.”

No!

“Asgore...”

Not the humans!

“Asgore!”

They’re all-

The scaly hand pushes down on Asgore’s head, holding it in place.

“Rest, Asgore. Your soul hasn’t steadied itself yet!”

The priestess…

“I’ve done what I can, my prince, but you have to rest now. Any more stress, even inwards, can jeopardize your healing.”

Healing?

“You’ve done well, Asgore.”

That’s Gerson again.

“Beyond what was asked of you, but now you have to weather your wounds.”

Why does he sound so afraid?

“Come back stronger, my prince. That’s the final order I’m going to give you.”

The scaly hand is removed from Asgore’s head, the faint sensation of its touch becoming null in Asgore’s mind. 

It’s all so...empty.

Asgore feels shattered. Broken. Torn to pieces.

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

The words echoes in the empty void around him. Or is it inside him? He doesn’t know!

It’s so dark…

So lonely.

Wait…

A flame? A light?

Is it…

“T...o...r...i...e…l?”

The sliver opened in Asgore’s eyes close again, and his face sinks into peacefulness.

//

Gerson knows it’s everything but though.

“Sleep well, sweet prince.”

The priestess hovers her hand above Asgore’s chest for a minute more before exhaling calmly. She sits down next to Gerson with a heavy fall. Another exhale rolls out of her mouth as she removes her hood, her long bunny ears laying down flat against her back.

“He’ll need to be strong for this,” she speaks with a worried whisper. “The humans, their auras have grown stronger.”

“That we already knew,” replies Gerson as he crosses his arms. “I didn’t sense any intentions against us monsters just yet, nor did I hear any implication of it from our ambassador. He’s noticed their increasing power too, first hand. I’ve relayed to him that any and all questions should be sent back to the castle before he makes a statement. He’s been advised not to use his magic outside of great necessity.”

“In self defense?”

Gerson doesn’t want to answer that.

“I want to say that you’re making a mountain out of a pebble, Gerson,” the priestess begins as she turns her head to observe Mt. Ebott slipping out of view of the carriage, the receding shadow making way for the warm rays of the sun to enter through the carriage window. It dances on Asgore’s face, and he scowls at it for a second before returning to his neutral, drained, expression.

“Truth is though,” she continues after pausing to make sure Asgore is still sleeping. “I fear that such a mountainous mountain that might loom in our future. Thinking about it though, I feel like I’m betraying the humans in a way. They’ve never indicated any harmful intentions about magic, yet here we assume the worst from them.”

“You have humans in your family, correct?” Gerson asks carefully. 

“Extended family, yes,” the priestess answers with a nod. “My cousin twice removed was adopted. Lives a couple of towns away from the castle. I went to visit him a few years ago.”

“Did you notice anything?” Gerson adds to his questioning.

“No, I didn’t.”

“We’ll have to conduct an investigation then to try and figure out what sparked the humans’ auras to grow like this,” Gerson ponders out loud with his hand tucked underneath his green chin. “I’d bet my right eye on it becoming a problem in the future, even if nothing is visible at the moment. Some damn foolish thing to light our world ablaze.”

“Weren’t you schooled in tactics under a human general, Gerson?” the priestess asks back, almost as in defense about having connections to humans. Her face turns into a deep scowl at herself. “Forgive me, it wasn’t my attention to sound so accusing.”

“I was partly schooled under a human general, yes,” Gerson answers after a second of letting the priestess apology sink in. “He told me that none were more afraid of humans than other humans, but that did little to convince me. I still write to him. He’s recently taken a prince under his wings too and wanted some help.”

Gerson breathes out a heavy exhale.

“I don’t hate the humans. I see them as valuable allies, and I respect them as much as they respect us, but my duties-”

“Yes, your duties,” the priestess interrupts. “I know of them, and I share them too, dear Gerson.”

He nods. Anyone else he would’ve been harsh at for interrupting him, but the priestess has more than earned her position as his equal with what she’s done for Asgore too. “I guess I should change my theory to fit the evidence rather than reverse.” 

“All my evidence point towards the same conclusion, Gerson.” The priestess tilts her head out towards the small village the carriage rolls through. “I wager that the humans will open talks with us about magical schooling within a couple of years if their prowess continues to increase. I don’t think they’ve noticed themselves just yet. Maybe a single incident has been reported, but dismissed. I looked, but I couldn’t find anything, so perhaps we’re lucky.” She waves playfully to a human child holding up a stuffed doll shaped like a bunny. “We sure could use some luck.”

Gerson follows the Priestess’ eyes. The human children are running as fast as they can, following along the carriage while waving excitingly to the driver. A small muffled crackle explodes above the carriage, and the children cheer their hearts out as they point in awe at the driver’s magic.

Not literally, of course. Might be literally in a couple of years, but for now it’s just a human saying.

It’s gonna be interesting to see the shift in human society, to say the least. It’ll most likely also change the status quo in monster society as well. Depends how the human’s magic will manifest. The monsters have generations worth of practice and usage, which will come to great use at the negotiation table. Gerson will do his all to make sure the monsters get their fair share of the humans’ potential.

The priestess makes a last dance with her ears before the human children have to stop as the carriage reaches the end of their village.

“Rosy cheeks,” she says with a giggle. “Sure is cute on those young humans.”

“Forgive me if my memory fails me, priestess, but didn’t you school a child in magic before? On your pilgrimage?”

The priestess nods as she tilts her head closer to the window to catch a few last glimpses of the human village they just passed. “I did,” she says in a nostalgic sigh. “A princess. Not of this human country,” she adds over her shoulder to Gerson, who nods in acknowledgment as he scratches his cheek. “I-” The carriage wheel hits a hole in the ground, bumping it violently.

The priestess’ head hits the inner wall of the carriage, and she grasps it while sucking air through her teeth.

Gerson approaches her, hunched over as to not scrape his head against the ceiling. “Are you hurt?”

The priestess shakes her head while keeping her eyes on Asgore. “No, I’m fine, thanks.” The prince is still sleeping quietly, and she sighs in relief. She massages the impact away from her head, and takes a steadying breath before continuing. “The human princess was very interested in our customs, especially magic. I explained to her that there were many humans that were interested in magic, but for now, none has shown any proficiency for it. She didn’t take it sitting down though, until I asked her to sit down for some meditation, that is,” the priestess addends with a chuckle. “She was a brilliant student, but alas.”

Gerson’s not sure if he agrees on that. “Alas might’ve been for the better, priestess.”

She nods. “I know, but I still feel that it was a shame that her aspirations didn’t lend her fruit, that’s what I meant.”

“I understand,” Gerson says while involuntarily glancing over to Asgore sleeping.

“It’s a weight we’ll have to leverage.”

No, not we.

Gerson’s eyes move over to Asgore.

“He’ll have to leverage,” he corrects the priestess.

Her ears perk, and she turns her head slowly over to Asgore as well. He’s sleeping peacefully, with one arm across his chest, and his other laying still at his side.

Fist clenched hard.

She lowers her head in a small prayer before cocking her head over to Gerson. “I had my guesses that what he said before falling back down into his rest was a name.” She nods to herself. “Toriel. Is that who’s he’s chosen?”

Gerson nods. “He has. A Boss Monster, like himself.”

“I see. When did you find out?”

Gerson meets the priestess’ eyes with his own. “Caught them in the act.”

Hers lose focus as Gerson’s words sink in. “Oh...”

“Not my proudest arrest.”

“How did they-”

“I’m not gonna go into detail, priestess,” Gerson states sternly. “I did enough damage interrupting the two, so I’m not gonna share further.”

It takes a couple of seconds before the priestess gains control over her body. “O-of c-course,” she stammers out while nodding.

“Do you remember the soup Asgore indulged during his parade?”

“I do. It was served from a...”

“Exactly.” 

Gerson can’t help but smile at the stunned visage of the priestess. Her ears stuck in an uncomfortable position as if frozen solid, and the scales on her face bending awkwardly as her mouth mutters silently. 

“I only noticed the smell after I went back to the training room where I found them. They had cooked it together in a pot. It was almost emptied of soup when I found it. I still remember the smell from the parade, and from when I ordered it from the tavern a week or so later. It’s not something you forget anytime soon, more so now.”

The priestess’ head is again dragged over Asgore’s way. “Would explain those fluctuations and flustered feelings in his aura. That he managed to keep it a secret from us...”

Gerson nods. “It’s good that he did. Shows resolve, planning, and cunning on his part.”

“What about the girl? Toriel?”

“She’s a noble one,” Gerson answers as his eyes run up and down Asgore. “She’ll be good for him. He’ll learn from her, and she’ll learn from him. It’ll be an honor to serve the two.”

“You have me excited to meet her,” the priestess says with a slight chuckle. “If she can do him as good as her cooking did, then I’m sure the two will reign prosperous.”

//

The castle…

The Town Criers…

They’ve been quiet. The castle’s been quiet.

Everything’s been quiet.

Toriel did the math, and even with a week of staying at the humans, Asgore should’ve been back by now.

Is he avoiding her?

Did he find a princess?

She turns her collar away from the castle.

“Where are you?”


	25. Fire fighter

“Oh god...”

This damn sun! It feels like it’s just an inch away, blazing, laughing, doing everything in its power to fill the damn bedroom.

Yes, yes! She’s awake! You can go away now!

But it remains… Despite her maniacal and desperate flailing of her hand yet to have woken up, akin to flailing a wet piece of parchment with the word ‘please’ written on it.

God dammit, why the night after he finally snuggled up into her own bed with him. It’s been such a long time coming, but apparently she doesn’t get to savor this moment.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

She has to wake up bright and early! Such is the will of the sun! Can’t sleep in when the moon urged her on to never get any during the night!

“Bleurhg...” she coughs out as she lets her forearm land hard across her eyes. “Why so early?”

Wow, that’s one dry mouth she has. Who would’ve thunk after how much she used it last night? If anything it should be flowing like a waterfall, but apparently not.

The only part on her body that isn’t soaked.

Be it sweat, or-

“My throat’s dry as a bone,” she mumbles out loud as she smacks her tongue and lips together. Like clapping together two old and weathered pieces of sun dried leathers. Not too far off what they actually are, to be honest.

Should probably get up and drink some water to clear that away. She did refill her jug with more water last night, that as much she was responsible to do before he arrived.

A hand grabs onto her shoulder as she rolls away from her partner in bed. It’s warm and steady. Not commanding, but urging, because it knows as much as she does that getting out of bed is the last thing she wants to do now. “No, stay,” he whispers as he gently rolls her back towards him.

The two share a kiss.

Despite them almost collapsing out of sheer exhaustion last night, the kiss is still just as passionate as it was when he finally arrived so late at night.

Oh it was such a long time since she saw him.

Her heart ached so much.

But now he’s here.

But now she has to leave him…

It’ll not be for long though, that the two have promised.

Tomorrow they’ll live together, tomorrow it’ll be official.

Finally! After all this time!

“Yeah, you should probably drink some water,” he snickers as she lets go of his lips. He tries to reconstitute them with his tongue, but his are just as dry as hers are. It was like rubbing two grinding stones together during the kiss, but not even the harsh chafing could stop the two from enjoying it more than they could ever dream to.

She pushes him as he shrugs and rolls away to go back to sleep, almost knocking him off the bed. “You’re lucky I love you,” she snarls through teeth gritted hard as to not reveal her amusement.

He chuckles.

“And don’t you dare say ‘I know’!” she shouts over her shoulder as she wraps her piece of the cover around her.

“How about ‘you too’?”

Dammit…

“...Yes,” she sighs in defeat. “You want some water too?”

Finally he begins to stretch the night away through a massive gaping yawn. “I could go for some.”

“Then come and pour some yourself.”

His stretch is halted just at the peak of comfort, tumbling down into the valley of discomfort like an avalanche speeding down a frictionless slope. “You’re kidding, right?”

She winks at him as she sip on her brimming cup of refreshing water. “No.” With a whistle, now that she can through her moistened lips, she refills her empty cup yet again.

“Please?” he asks pleadingly, still clinging onto the faint belief that he’ll be allowed to stay in the warmth of the soft mattress and comforting blanket. “I’ll give you another kiss?”

Tempting, but no.

As if she’d allow him to know that it is tempting as hell to her. She won’t allow that kinda power to anyone!

She’s the one that’s gonna hold that power in this relationship, and that’s final!

“You’ll give me another kiss alright, but not in the exchange of anything,” she states loud and clear. “And don’t even think that you can even come close to what I can do to melt you.”

She runs her hand over her head, slowly down her neck, with a gentle departure over her shoulder, and down her curves, finally stopping her hand at her hip, which she scoots out to the side. Her mouth bites carefully down on one of the claws on the hand that’s occupied with the water, and she tilts her head just a bit as she fans her eyes.

He freezes, gulping loudly while his mouth quivers.

She scoffs a laugh. “You don’t have any power here,” she teases before taking another drink. “Now I need to clean myself up a bit, if you don’t mind.”

She lets her cover drop from her upper body, prompting another audible inhale from her bed, but just before it passes her midriff she catches it, and ties it around her waist, making a long flowing dress out of the cover as she walks over to the wash basin on the other side of the wooden dresser drawer.

She won’t deny that the reaction from him makes her feel good. She’s wanted, and from someone she wants too. The mutual desire hangs thicker than the wet blanket around her waist.

It’s been a while for her, and she’s glad the feeling is back.

As she begins warming up the water for her cleaning, she hears him finally getting up out of her bed. The loud complaining as the springs finally get some relief is almost deafening, almost drowning out his dramatic huffs and mumbling as he makes his way over to the now half empty jug of water.

He drinks deeply as she begins washing the sweat away from her face. Her mounds, round and perky, sore from last night, she washes off too. She rolls one shoulder. Yup, definitely sore. It’ll be a bit difficult having sore shoulders at work, but she’ll manage.

“How about lunch?” he asks as he nudges himself next to her to also make use of the hot water from her basin.

She throws some on his face. “You could wait until I’m done, you know?”

“I know,” he says with a sly wink.

That...bastard…

“How about that tavern your friend works at, Jy?” Drayk asks after drying his face with a nearby towel. “Tor...something. At her tavern?”

Jyuona nags back the towel from Drayk, leaving him staring at the palms of his paws. “Might have to talk to her about it first. She’s not been in the best of moods lately.”

“Hm,” Drayk answers as he reaches for another towel. “Shame.”

“Yes, and it’ll be one for you too if you don’t even pretend to care for my friends.”

“You know that I need at least half an hour and some tea before I can get started in the morning, Jy.”

Jyunoa throws a pair of eyebrows raised high over her shoulder as she opens her wardrobe. “Surely didn’t need any of that last night.”

“That’s different though,” Drayk defends with a hand thrown just as high as Jyuona’s eyebrows.

“If you say so,” Jyuona replies with a shrug as she drags an undershirt on. “You’re paying for the lunch, by the way?”

Drayk’s towel cowered face turns around. “Ok?” his muffled voice asks in rising crescendo. “Why?”

“Because you love me,” Jyuona whispers, having sneaked up as Drayk was drying his face. He flinches as he finds her less than an inch from his face, but Jyuona catches his neck, and drags his lips into hers. “Don’t you?” she wonders as she retracts her tongue back to her own mouth.

He sighs dramatically, almost melting. “Yes, I do, Jy.”

“Great!” she cheers. “Could you bring me my keys at lunch?” she adds as she stops at her front door.

“I will, Jyjy.”

Jyuona stops in her step. “No,” she throws back with her finger pointing harshly at Drayk.

“Yes, Jyjy.”

“No.”

“Yes, because you like that name.”

And that’s why he’s not allowed to say it!

“See you at lunch,” Jyuona mutters before closing the door behind her.

She scoffs another laugh as she heads down the stairs outside.

Why does she love him so?

//

“Hey! Hey! Come back!”

Ignore.

“You don’t look well, friend.”

Ignore.

“Do you need help?”

Ignore.

“Isn’t that...”

Ignore.

“But...how...”

Ignore.

//

“Tori!”

Is she deaf?

“Tori!” Jyuona repeats, for like the fifth time now, waving her hand in front of the glazed state of Toriel’s face.

Finally she blinks, the tiniest indication that she’s alive. “Oh...yes? Can I-”

“It’s me, Tori,” Jyuona informs the clearly confused chef. “How are you, girl?”

Toriel looks down and away as her hand twists hard inside the mug she’s cleaning with a piece of cloth.

Oh…

“What’s the matter, Tori?” Jyuona pries as she sits down on the bar stool closest to Toriel. “Is it about...” She leans closer with her hand covering the side of her mouth. “The Prince?”

Toriel recoils violently, almost crushing the mug in her hand and gracing Jyuona with one of her ears as she rocks her head from side to side.

Oh shit, it is.

“It’s been two months now,” Toriel whispers through a sob. “He was to arrive home a month or so ago.”

Oh no…

“Tori...”

Bossy’s lips begin to retract as her mouth quivers like a scared child’s. It radiates out to her shoulders in a matter of seconds, and it’s not long after that that Toriel’s knees begin to fail her. She collapses onto the bar, her head buried inside her arms as she drags a choking cough.

“It’s my fault...” escapes the cavern she’s created, and never intend to leave again.

“No, Tori,” Jyuona tries to comfort as she leans over her friend with her arms. “You promised me, Tori.”

“I’m sorry, Jy,” she replies through a heavy sob. “I know I promised, but...”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Jyuona hushes gently as she embraces her friend. The few patrons in at this hour be damned! They’ll have to wait for a bit now. “I’m here, Tori.”

“I’m scared that I don’t know. I’ve been imagining things. Horrible things! I’ve told myself to stop thinking like that, but I can’t! It always comes back! The worry! The guilt! It’s always there! I just want to see him, to make sure he’s fine, but I don’t know where he is!” Toriel leans further into Jyuona shoulder. “What if he’s just gone?”

“Tori,” Jyuona says sternly. “You promised me. At the mill, you promised me to be strong.”

“That was weeks ago...”

“I know, bossy, but there’s no time limit on these. I’m sorry, but it’s a promise you have to carry on you, Tori.” Jyuona puts her forehead against Toriel’s. Instantly she feels the gray and muddled aura that she’s all too familiar with herself. Too feel it on her best friend now… “It’ll be better, but it won’t go away,” Jyuona says, she has to.

Toriel heaves an exhausted sigh.

“I know, bossy,” Jyuona sighs out as well. “But it is what it is now.”

I know, Jy,” Toriel replies after a quiet beat. “I’ll be strong, I promise. I just… I needed to cry a bit. Sorry if I stained your shirt.”

Jyuona dusts off her shoulder. “It’s no worry, Tori,” she smiles encouragingly, tugging at the teared stain with less than a care in the world. “I’ll manage.”

“Thanks, Jy.”

The two friends embrace each other again.

“You’ll see him again, Tori.”

“...”

“I promise you.”

“...Alright, Jy. I trust you.”

Jyuona keeps her eyes locked on Toriel’s to make sure she isn’t lying.

She isn’t, but she isn’t telling the truth either.

She doesn’t know.

Oh...Toriel…

Jyuona’s heart hurts seeing Toriel like this. She’s supposed to be Jyuona’s pillar to lean on! The reverse is...it’s so wrong!

What did she do getting herself involved with the Prince like this? Of all monsters to be so foolish, Toriel would be the last one Jyuona would ever image! Damn be that the two are Boss Monsters, even with that, Jyuona couldn’t see Toriel ever getting close to the Prince.

Although, if anyone would be able to be an equal to the Prince, it would be Toriel. Jyuona has no doubt about that against her best friend!

Maybe Drayk can help?

He said something about knowing a guy who knew a guy who knew a guard in the castle.

Perhaps he can help.

Jyuona will ask during the lunch.

Oh! She almost forgot!

“Toriel?” she asks carefully. “It might not be the best time to ask...but Drayk suggested him and I eat lunch here. I...we won’t if it’ll upset you, of course, but perhaps if you see that I can get over...her...then maybe...I don’t know?” Jyuona shakes her head hard. No! Focus! Be direct with your best friend!

Jyuona takes a steadying breath through her nose. “Perhaps it’ll make you feel better seeing that I can get over something like this, and give hope that you can.”

Toriel looks away to the side while awkwardly balling her hands inside her apron. “Maybe… I don’t know either.”

“Can we at least try?”

Toriel nods after a couple of seconds of silent thinking. “We can try...”

“Will you be fine until the lunch?”

“I think so, Jy.” Toriel cocks her head down into the kitchen. “Gonna start with the preparation soon, will give me time to think a bit.”

“Think of good things, bossy. Promise me?”

“I will.”

Still can’t tell if she’s lying or not.

It’s better than knowing that she’s lying, at least.

As good as it can be for Jyuona, considering.

She needs to hurry now, get to her own work. Jyuona would stay if she could, but she made a promise herself to get on better feet, and now that she’s finally starting to...this happens...

“I’ll see you at lunch then, Tori,” Jyuona smiles before heading to the door. It’s the best she can do at the moment.

“Yeah…see you, Jy.”

//

“Sir, you can’t...”

Ignore.

“Could it be?”

Ignore.

“It does look like him.”

Ignore.

“Excuse me?”

Ignore.

“Whoa there, friend. How’re you feeling?”

Ignore.

“You need a hand there?”

Ignore.

“I don’t think you should be outside looking the way you do.”

Ignore.

“S-should we call the guards?”

Ignore.

The tavern is visible now.

But Asgore’s not even halfway to it.

“Seriously, you should sit down.”

No.

“Do you hear me?”

Ignore.

“Hey! I’m trying to help you! Let’s head to a station so that you’ll be safe.”

No.

Need to keep going…

//

“Hey, Kryg!”

Krygino halts in his step. “Make it quick, Jy. I got these plates to get to a table.”

Jyuona squeezes herself to the bar counter. The lunch rush is well underway, but she has to make her way through it. “Where’s Tori?”

Krygino nods down to the kitchen. “In there.”

“How...how is she?”

Krygino hesitates an answer.

“Oh...”

Dammit.

“I’ve gotten you a table,” informs Krygino with a summoned smile. “Just give me a few moments to smooth the backlog, will you?”

Jyuona nods with haste, almost shaking the eyeballs out of her skull. “Yes, of course. Do you want me to go down and talk with her?”

Krygino shakes his head, his ears bending further down behind him with each shake. “No...I’m afraid she’s not much for talking now. It’s not your fault, Jy. It’s not what you and she talked about before, I promise. It’s more like...that she has to come to terms with it herself. I think some alone time might do her some good.”

“You sure?”

“I have to be, for her.”

Jyuona understands, although she’s having difficulty accepting it.

Tori…

**AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!**

It just how Jyuona was! When she lost someone! All the pieces fit, it’s all a damn repeat!

She talked with Toriel at the mill though! She promised Jyuona that she’d not go through what Jyuona put herself through!

Although, Jyuona promised she wouldn’t put herself through what she did to Toriel...

Jyuona needed some time alone before she could be better though, so perhaps Toriel needs some too. Not too much though, otherwise…

No! No such thoughts!

And Drayk is gonna be here any minute now. Krygino will inform Toriel that Drayk and Jyuona is eating, and then she’ll go up and see her best friend being happy, and that will help her get a new perspective, and that will make her feel better, and then she’ll be back to her normal self again!

God...freaking...dammit!

Jyuona can’t even believe that will happen herself!

She sighs.

“What is such a beautiful monster doing by herself in a place like this?”

He really knows when to pick the worst times to come visit, doesn’t he? Although, judging by the horrible time turned fantastic time yesterday, perhaps it’s for the better he came now?

Jyuona will just have to stick to her plan and see.

She swivels around on her bar stool to greet Drayk. “Did you lock my door?” she asks suspiciously to keep up appearances.

He produces the key to her front door from his shirt pocket which he spins on one of his claws. “Got it right here.”

Jyuona snags it with a quick sleight of her hand. She places it in her own pocket, which she pats.

“Do we have a table?” Drayk wonders as he peers around the packed tavern. “Can’t see any vacant ones.”

“The owner told me he had one for us,” Jyuona answers as she waves to get Krygino’s attention. He holds up two fingers, and Jyuona acknowledges with a nod. “Should be ready any moment now.”

“It’s a very cozy place,” Drayk says as he looks around. “I heard the soup the Prince drunk during his parade came from here. Would love to try it!”

Jyuona’s eyes shoot over to the kitchen hatch for a brief moment before she realizes and shift them back to Drayk. “Yeah, we’ll see if it’s on the menu.”

After another minute or so of Drayk taking in the surroundings, Krygino arrives with his hands outstretched in a warm welcome. “Your table is on the upper floor,” he smiles. “The best one we have.”

No, he didn’t...

“With the view of the lake?” Jyuona asks in a gasp.

“Of course.”

Drayk’s ears perk up. “The lake? You can see it from here?”

Krygino leans into Drayk with a sly wink. “Why don’t we find out?”

“Lead the way then.”

Krygino bows. “Certainly. Please, follow me.”

Jyuona puts her hand through Drayk’s arm as the two follow Krygino towards the stairs.

“I’ve been here plenty of times, but I’ve never actually sat at that table, come to think of it,” she thinks out loud as she leans her head against Drayk’s shoulder. “It’s always been busy, even when there’s no one else here. Could be that- Ooh?”

Jyuona’s arm almost pops out of her shoulder socket as Drayk plants his feet hard into the floorboards, his neck turned sharp towards the entrance. A large hooded figure steps in carefully, moving as if drained of everything. Drayk follows each lumbering step the figure takes with eyes hardened and mouth dragging back.

“Drayk?”

Jyuona waves her hand in front of Drayk’s face which seems to snap him out of it.

“Sorry, Jyuona. It’s just...” He turns his eyes back at the hooded figure carefully sitting down on a bar stool and looking back and forth, as if searching for something. “I’m pretty sure that was the monster that refused to move from the stone bench before, remember? Son of a soulless mother, that one is.” Drayk shakes his head. “Sorry, Jy. Let’s head to the table.”

But now it’s Drayk’s turn to have his arm hook into something immovable. He turns to Jyuona, seeing her face completely drained of color.

“Jy-”

She takes off, elbowing herself through the crowd, and getting angry looks as mugs and plates tip, some even falling down.

Doesn’t matter in the damn slightest to Jyuona though!

She grabs the shoulder of the hunched over monster in his darkened robe. It takes her almost throwing her back out, but she manages to get the bar stool he’s planted himself on to start turning.

“Where in the goddamn have you...”

Oh my god!

//

This monster…

She...she was there when Toriel first spoke to Asgore!

//

How can this be a Prince?

It’s a husk!

No…

Toriel…

She can’t see her Prince like this.

Jyuona grits her teeth against the thought.

No!

Who is Jyuona to decide for Toriel?

She throws her arm towards the door.

“Out the door, and behind the tavern,” she whispers as loudly as she dares to the husk. “You got it?”

“Have you seen-”

“Just! Do! It!” Jyuona interrupts with a snarl. “She’ll be there!”

//

She...will...?

//

“I appreciate you standing up for me, Jyuona,” Drayk chuckles as Jyuona hurries back towards him. “You didn’t have to make...a...scene…though.”

She passes him without even looking.

“Jyuona?”

//

“Toriel!”

It’s Jyuona’s voice…

No, not now.

Maybe not ever...

Toriel closes the kitchen hatch above her.

“I’m sorry, Jy,” she whispers.

//

What the shit?

Why?

Jyuona stamps her foot on the kitchen hatch. By now the entire tavern has stopped, with all looking at her tugging at the handle as hard as she can.

But it refused.

“Open up, Toriel!”

But the hatch is closed tight. Toriel must’ve locked it.

Idiot! Why-

A hand grabs Jyuona’s arm, and she spins her head around to see Drayk looking understandably worried at her. “Jy?” he prods carefully. “Let’s just go. We’ll find somewhere else to eat, to stop bothering the rest of these guests.”

No!

**FUCK THE GUESTS!**

“He’s here!” Jyuona shouts down into the kitchen as loudly as she can. When that doesn’t get an answer, she again throws her heel down as hard as she dares. AND THEN SOME! “GET! OUT! OF! THERE! AND! GO! TO! **HIM!** ”

//

He’s…

The potato in Toriel’s hand explodes as her hands clenches tight.

Here?

She slams the kitchen hatch open with her arm, catching the last glimpse of Jyuona being dragged out the tavern by Drayk and two other rather annoyed patrons.

“Inventory!” is the last Jyuona manages to shout before the door is slammed behind her.

Inventory?

Toriel’s eyes shoot wide open, and she snaps her head towards the door leading to the back alley.

Inventory!

//

“The absolute hell was that, Jy?” Drayk pleads, confused and borderline disgusted.

But she can only laugh.

Laugh loud, gaudily guffaw, crassly chortle, soundly snicker.

She wraps her arms around Drayk, diving into his embrace as he stumbles backwards, baffled beyond belief.

She kisses him on his cheek. “Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am, Drayk.”

He can only stare as his face cycles through a myriad of emotions.

She locks one in by giving him a peck on his mouth.

It lands on...sorta confused, rather perplexed.

She chuckles again at it.

“I-I’m g-glad to hear that, Jy,” Drayk manages to vocalize, despite his tone suggesting the complete opposite. “C-could you explain what just happened?”

Jyuona nods down the street. “We can talk as we walk.”

It takes a second before Drayk realizes that he should walk as well.

“Yes?” he asks as he skips to catch up to Jyuona.

She passes the back alley street, subtly glancing into it.

Two Boss Monsters have fallen into each other, collapsed on their respective knees, and are quivering softly while wrapping their neck around the others.

She pushes Drayk forward so that he doesn’t see.

Jyuona shouldn’t even have too.

It’s the bossys’ moment now, should be only them now.

Drayk cranes his neck back towards the back alley as a loud collective sob escapes it. Jyuona steals his attention back by opening her mouth slowly.

“It all began when Toriel and I were little kids...”


	26. Firestone

The storage room flies open, its door crashing against the wall as a hurried Boss Monster bursts out of it.

“Toriel?”

Krygino barely has time to catch her bolting down into the kitchen. The loud slam from the door she just threw open still lingers in the collective ears of the tavern when Toriel returns up a second later with a large bowl of soup. Despite her hurried movement, not a single drop of it is spilled.

“Toriel?” Krygino tries again, his hand placing down the mug he’s been cleaning with a towel.

But his question falls on deaf ears, his becoming such as well, as Toriel slams the storage door close behind her.

“This has been the most interesting lunch I’ve had in a while,” voices a nearby patron with a baffled chuckle and a finger inside one of his four multicolored ears.

Krygino nods along, despite knowing that it wasn’t addressed to him.

“Sure has...” he whispers to himself.

//

“Drink, Asgore.”

That smell…

“Please.”

It’s warm, just like her hand slowly tilting his head up closer to the bowl is. Just like her lips did so many weeks ago, the soup caresses Asgore’s tongue and mouth, asking carefully and tenderly to be let inside.

Yes! Enter! Please!

He’s longed so much for it…

//

He’s drinking!

Oh...oh...Asgore.

What’s happened to you?

He’s so faint. Both his body, and his soul.

Is he…

Toriel can feel her eyes water up. She doesn’t dare finish the thought. What if it’s true?

No, no!

He can’t be dying!

//

Look at her.

Crying, sobbing. Her soul is being torn apart by how you are. The state you’re in, it’s harrowing to her. She didn’t even recognize you at first glance. She hesitated when she saw you.

You scared her, Asgore.

Toriel is afraid because of you.

The way she embraced you as you fell into her arms, not out of love, but out of exhaustion.

Or is this how you’ve decided to express your love to her?

By forcing her to take care of a husk of a monster that’s supposed to be her sword and shield!

//

“Asgore!”

Toriel has never heard as violent a cough…

It pained him. She can see his mouth tug back and forth from the aftermath.

It must’ve surprised him as well. Hit it from where he couldn’t defend himself from it.

Is there any angle he _can_ defend himself though?

Asgore...

//

What kinda prince are you, Asgore? You think she’d ever become your Queen with how broken your body and soul is?

_You’re_ supposed to protect _her_!

_You’re_ supposed to be the pillar _she_ is leaning on!

The least you can try to do is reach out for her.

The least you can do is try and comfort her when she’s scared like this!

Tell her it’s nothing! Tell her you’ll be strong for her!

**Do it!**

Lift your arm and caress her cheek and tell her you’ll be safe and sound!

“No, don’t!”

She removes your arm when you reach out for her...

It’s weak, a shadow of its former self, if even that. Dust strewn in a hurricane is more compact than what’s limping from your shoulder. Why would she ever want it near her? It’s not even close to the arm she used so comfortably as a pillow on that starry night months ago. A pillow she could lean back to and observe the stars far, far above her. Now her gaze is locked down, at you. The tears formed by wishful wonders have been replaced by ones formed out of dread and fear, crashing onto you. Before it took her pushing her head down for you arm to feel like it’s stinging, now it does so without as much as a whispered breath on it.

“Be still, Asgore.”

She has such concern for you. Mere months ago she’d spat right in your face if she saw you, and now look what she is doing.

Crying, because she thinks she’s about to lose the one she loves. The Prince she shared her soul with, now more a sack of potatoes than the sack of potatoes the Prince’s exhausted body is laying on.

Try again to reach for her.

It’s what you want, isn’t it?

“Please, Asgore. Just be still. I don’t...”

She doesn’t know what will happen. She doesn’t want you to screw up by moving a single one of your drained muscles.

She loves you that much.

But here you still lay, without a single wind inside of you. First, second, third, or any other. None reside inside you, Asgore.

She sounds just like the priestess as she comforts you. The same fear, the same worry, the same doubt. Again you have to be tendered to by those you’ve sworn to protect.

Pathetic.

“Why did you come here, Asgore?”

Why did you come here, Asgore?

For her?

How can it be for her if you’ve done nothing but be a leech since the two of you locked eyes. Hers full and as wonderful as you barely remembered, and yours, sunk in like a stone in the deepest of lakes. Just as dark and shadowy as the bottom of the same lake.

“You’re ill, you’re hurt! We have to get you back up to the castle to heal you!”

The castle…

“You shouldn’t even be standing, Asgore!” Gerson shouted, the same fear that was lingering behind his voice during your mission to the humans now being the driving force behind his worried outburst. His arm pushed against your chest. His other holding a cyan hammer, flickering and violently sparking.

“I need to see her.”

You did. You did need to see her.

“I’ll send for her, Asgore. Go back to your room.”

“I need to go to her.”

That as well. It had to be you. You alone to see her.

“What you need to do, Asgore, is get back to your room so that you can heal!” Gerson’s voice rang out, commanding with all authority he’s accumulated during his life. Vigor, confidence, anger, all blossoming like the castle garden during spring.

Had your soul been without strife you’d heeded that order without as much as a blink. In the state it is in now, however, not even the King’s roar could’ve persuaded you otherwise.

Because the only thing keeping him tethered is the lingering warmth still left behind from her.

From Toriel.

“The priestess can’t heal me… She can’t. She’s done all she can, but I’m still like this.”

The pressure from Gerson’s hand gave way.

“She doesn’t know what to replace,” you continued after having trouble shifting your balance back steady after Gerson lessened the push from his palm. “The priestess doesn’t know.”

Gerson’s hand again calmed, sending you into an insecure step that you barely managed to recover from. “You can’t even stand up, Prince.”

“I will walk back to the human kingdom if I have to.”

“At least allow a carriage to take you down to the tavern.”

//

“Your feet are dirty and your toes look like you’ve been dragging them through all the cobblestone available in the kingdom! Did you walk here from the castle, Asgore?”

Why? Why didn’t he take a carriage down here? Or something? Why did he walk in the state he is in right now?

Better yet, why is he alone here in the first place?

Where are his guards? Gerson? Anyone?

Do they even know he’s down here at the tavern?

//

The obscured carriage would’ve drawn attention, ironically.

No, it had to be a common wagon.

One that a faint and weak monster would easily fall off if there was as much as a bump in the road.

And then came the cobblestone road, didn’t it, Asgore?

//

He has scrapes on his knees. His cloak is dirty, and his horns are poking through his hood. His hands look hurt too!

“Asgore...”

//

The people, the ones you’ve been dedicating your entire life to protect, came to your aid.

But what did you do, Asgore?

You pushed them away.

Because if they’d realize who you were, then they’d alert the guards, and you would’ve been taken back to the castle.

The only thing you could do was to walk. Walk down the hill, ignoring the crowd around you.

They couldn’t see the state you were in. They couldn’t recognize you. The fear it would’ve brought…

Only one could see the faltering form of yours.

Only her.

Only Toriel.

She’s the only one that can help you.

//

“Does it hurt, Asgore? Are you in pain?”

//

She asked you a question, Asgore.

Answer her.

“...”

//

He shouldn’t be speaking! What is Toriel doing?

“No...be quiet. I...I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be talking like you are now.”

//

...Pathetic.

//

Toriel needs to alert someone. Krygino might be able to discreetly get a hold of a Royal Guard to take Asgore back to the castle.

Toriel has to-

//

Can’t bare see her turn away from you, can you?

Now that you’ve grabbed her arm more violently as you’ve grabbed any arm in your life, what are you gonna do?

She staring back at you with horrid eyes.

You’re hurting her.

//

Toriel instinctively retracts her wrist as Asgore’s grip loosens and slides back down next to him with a loud thud.

She looks at where Asgore just grabbed her. It doesn’t...hurt.

The small cut from his hasty claw tells a different story to her mind though. A story forcing her to breathe carefully through her gritted teeth.

Why did he do that?

He didn’t do it on purpose…

Right?

//

No, it has to be a secret.

If the monsters found out that the humans were responsible for this, for the suffering soul quivering inside you, Asgore, it would break the hope of your future people.

If their future King couldn’t stand up against the human, then who could?

And if the humans found out that not even the future King of the monsters could stand up to them?

//

Again Asgore coughs hard. He’s in such hurt!

What can Toriel do?

More soup, perhaps?

//

She offers more soup, more of her manna.

Drink.

Such bliss. A candle in the dark.

//

His face soothes.

The first calm Toriel’s seen on Asgore’s face since she brought him into the storage room.

But she can’t just keep running to the kitchen to get more soup. It’ll alert everyone present that something strange is going on.

That something even stranger is going on, that is.

Toriel shudders as the thought of the entire tavern finding out about Asgore looking like he does now. Not even the Town Criers would be able to convince otherwise if news got out.

And what about the humans?

//

It’s not enough though. It’s not enough of her for Asgore’s soul to be reminded.

Does he not appreciate her enough? Does he need her everything to be sated?

Dammit…

Not like this!

Why? Why can’t him just seeing her be enough?

Is it really that bad for him?

Dammit!

//

He again clenches his mouth while wringing his head side to side. His sharp breathing comes out in pained bursts through his nose.

What...what can Toriel do?

She has to do something?

But what! What can she do?

Her hands come up to her face.

What can she do?

A pained sob escapes between her clenched fingers.

What can she do...

//

No…

No.

No!

NO!

//

Again Toriel’s wrist is taken from her. Through the water in her eyes she sees Asgore’s shaking hand bring hers down to his chest.

His lips move, but it’s impossible to hear what he’s trying to say.

“T...”

//

You’re fading, Asgore. If you do this you’ll fall.

But Toriel, she will understand. She will know what to do!

Are you sure?

Yes, more than sure.

//

“Heal...me...”

His grip again loosens from Toriel’s wrist, and falls down, lifeless, onto the ground. His head tilts to the side, and his eyes close.

No…

No.

No!

NO!

**NO!**

He can’t be…

Toriel looks at her hands.

He said to heal him.

But...how?

Her magic isn’t capable of this! She’s never…

Wait!

What was it he said back when she was in the castle?

What was it!

**THINK!**

//

You said you were sure, Asgore.

I...am…

//

Healing…

Healing isn’t restoring to before.

It’s...replacing what’s been lost.

But what’s been lost?

Is it…

Toriel turns her hands around.

Is it her that he’s lost?

Like those human fairy tales he told her about, but instead of a prince waking up a princess, it’s the opposite!

That is if Toriel even can.

But she has to try.

No, not try.

Do!

She places her hands on Asgore’s chest, and closes her eyes.

So...what now? Does she use her fire magic? To find his? Can she remember how she felt before when he finally shared his magic with hers? Perhaps she could use that feeling to find his magic, even if it is faint.

Toriel lets her fire spread throughout Asgore. It’s so dark, she needs something to light the way for her to find his soul so she can heal it.

Once inside, a sense of burdening doubt begins to weigh on top of her. It scares her. It’s vast, beyond what she’s ever felt.

She should follow it. It scares her to even consider it, but Asgore must be feeling something much worse, so she has to steel herself.

It’ll be like traveling upstream in a waterfall, but she has to get to the source. It can only be his soul, there’s no way it’s anything else.

She prods one way, but it’s colder. She prods another, and it’s warmer.

But which one?

Warmth could be his soul, the lingering flame still left.

Cold could be the aura surrounding it though, keeping it subdued.

She needs to hurry now. Make a choice!

Or does she?

She focuses her being, forcing out more spheres of fire around her.

She focuses onto each of them, and the ensuing overload of sensing what’s around her from what is around her, and beyond, is nauseating, but like this she can search more effective. Both the cold and warmth.

With a deep breath she sends out her magic to explore and investigate.

The hot and cold duality is unsettling, like high summer and deep winter at the same time from all directions.

Ignore that. Focus on where he could be!

“Where are you, Asgore?” she asks through her magic. “Tell me, please, so that I can heal you.”

No answer.

She needs to explore further, and-

A flash of pain shoots through her, and Toriel recoils back with her hands and wrists shaking in rhythm to her quaking gasps of air.

She felt like she was about to be torn apart! Split in two by the hot and cold!

She’ll worry about that later!

Toriel dives back with her hands on Asgore’s torso again, slamming her eyes shut to help her focus.

Again she forces spheres around her, and again she sends them out to find him.

The hot and cold again takes hold of her. She pushes against it, but it won’t falter. She’s in its realm, she’s not invited, and she’s being rejected its land.

She won’t allow for it though. They’re usurpers, daring to take possession of a domain not theirs to take! The hot and cold lays claim to the soul of a future king!

No!

His future queen will see them banished from it!

The queen will-

Toriel again recoils back, her hands shaking even more than before.

Future queen?

Toriel scours her dress pocket, but as soon as her fingers touch the Delta Rune she’s kept as a reminder of Asgore, they curl back.

Future queen…

No, focus!

She carefully pokes at the Delta Rune again. This time her fingers wrap around it, clenching it hard.

Future queen.

Yes, she loves him that much.

Her future king.

But it’s a future she’ll have to get him to attend to!

She crawls forwards back to Asgore, and presses her hands against his chest.

Her spheres flies out with such speed and tenacity that the cold and hot doesn’t have time to infect her. Not that she’d let them to if they tried!

She’ll find him!

Even if it-

There!

So frail, so weak.

Well not anymore!

“Asgore!” Toriel cries out into the emptiness surrounding her magic. “I’m here!”

The weak figure starts to turn. “Toriel?” it says ethereally, revealing its hollow and sunken face. It looks around, unaware of Toriel’s approach, as if it can’t see her.

She takes its hand, sending her comfort so shocking that it threatens to crumble the frail figure of the Royal Boss Monster. Its mouth beings to quiver.

“I’m here, Asgore,” Toriel says carefully. She drags the figure close to her, and envelops it with her magic.

“I’m here to remind you what you lost.”

//

The-

Asgore takes a greedy breath as he flies up onto his feet. He can’t keep himself on it for long as the dizziness in his head has the entire room spinning. He stumbles forward, and lands hard onto the ground, slamming his shoulder into a cupboard that cracks under his weight. Another sickening crack emerges from underneath him, and he coughs violently.

No, no coughs! Asgore doesn’t have enough air to cough.

More air! More air!

**BREATHE!**

//

“What the hell is going on in-”

Toriel shuts the door in Krygino’s face before locking the storage door. She should’ve done it earlier, but she didn’t have time.

Seeing the Prince faint as can be without dispersing into dust might’ve been horrible for the Royal Image, but seeing him crawl and squirm around while breathing like a dumbfounded fish finding itself on land might do worse for the Royal Image in terms of respectability.

She’ll be in that image soon, so she needs to keep it fine for now on, right?

Toriel shakes the thought out of her head.

She should see to it that Asgore’s fine now. She stands up and-

“Woah...”

Toriel falls with her back against the storage door, her hand pushing against her head to try and contain the overwhelming lightheaded feeling that suddenly attacked her when she tried to stand up.

Healing Asgore took more out of her than she suspected.

That must mean that she did heal him up completely, right?

Toriel looks over to Asgore having trouble not to slip on a sack of cabbages all the while breathing like he just found out that he was supposed to, and now he’s trying to catch up on a lifetime of not breathing.

Maybe she should give him a minute or so.

And herself too.

Yeah. Yeah…

Just calm down.

It’s over.

//

Alright!

Alright.

Alright…

Ok…

O...k…

Asgore tries to only take a calm inhale through his nose.

Is it enough?

His entire body screams in unanimous disagreement, and the supplementary inhale through his gaping mouth would wake the dead who’d complain about the most infernal snoring coming from the living.

Was that enough?

Yes, for now.

But now he’s in need of another.

//

Maybe two minutes…

//

Alright!

Alright.

Alright…

Ok…

O...k…

It’s been a handful of minutes now.

Asgore should try again with breathing normally.

A mixed smell of fresh produce follows his calm inhale.

Is it enough?

He exhales just as calmly.

Yes, it’s enough.

Oh, finally...

“You feeling better?”

//

Oooooh… Maybe Toriel should’ve waited a bit with that…

That looked like it hurt.

//

Despite Asgore pushing with all his might down on where his startled head hit the window sill, he still has to briefly return to his clumsily breathing.

Briefly is only for a second, as the pain subsides almost immediately from Asgore’s head. He timidly removes his hands, but the pain doesn’t come surging back as it would normally do.

He must’ve been healed. But who could have?

Wait…

His head snaps over to Toriel leaning against the door with her hand against her forehead.

Did she…

A warm and nostalgic sensation dances around inside of him. The final lingering effect after a heal. It’s more prominent than anything Asgore’s ever felt in his life.

It’s Toriel! It’s Toriel he feels inside him. Her magic, her…

Her healing.

She healed him.

And now she’s-

No!

//

Can Toriel hold out for just a bit long-

No, no she can’t.

And there she goes…

Toriel feels her knees collapse underneath her, and her back chafing against the wood of the door through her dress. She can only hope that it won’t splinter as her vision begins to fail her.

Her fall is interrupted by two strong arms giving her support underneath her armpits. A warm and chiseled torso is pushed against hers. Finally, her face is drowned in a golden sea of flowing hair.

“My turn now.”

It’s…

Toriel chokes on a sob.

She wraps her arms around the now steady shoulders, and she drags herself closer to him.

It’s Asgore.

He’s back…

“Thank you, Toriel.”

She cries on his shoulder, but it won’t budge an inch against anything anymore.

He’s back!


	27. Through the soul and the flames

“Light that lamp post, please.”

“Do you promise not to run away if I do?”

Toriel puts her bottle up to her lips while she tilts her head from side to side. “Maybe,” she answers with a shrug before taking a big gulp of her mead. It goes down like a river being reinvigorated by melting snow during early spring.

Oh boy! She sure needed some of that.

She can hear Asgore open his own bottle, and the ensuing cascade of foam from his clumsily technique.

“Golly!”

Golly?

“Golly?” Toriel asks through her perplexed expression. “Of all things to say...why?”

“Wha-” Asgore’s neck cranes forward as he forgets to also turn his bottle as well as his head. The mead pours out, and after a fruitless attempt to catch it back into his mouth, it drips down onto the roof slates as if drizzle from a gathering rain cloud. Hopefully the shop keep won’t come out to check for leaks to find two Boss Monsters sitting on his roof.

Again.

But considering that the lock on the ladder hasn’t yet been replaced, Toriel doubts that. The two of them are already silhouetted literally white on a black background since the stars have yet to be visible at this hour. If they haven’t been discovered by now it’s not likely they will afterwards.

Soon though the stars will make their acquaintance and their bright shimmer will hide Toriel and Asgore. Maybe a passerby will glance up and think to see new constellations in the form of two Boss Monsters? And maybe they’ll also mistake the ground for a ceiling while they’re at it.

No, it won’t really disguise the fact that Toriel and Asgore are drinking mead on top of this roof.

Not with him having lit that lamp post just now. Although to be fair, Toriel asked him to.

Asgore dries the escaped mead off his beard with the sleeve of his robe. “What did you say?”

Dear lord, he looks completely out of his element. Fish on a week long travel across a desert have less sporadic behavior than Asgore has while trying to drink from a glass bottle. Toriel needs another swig before she has the strength to continue with this whole ordeal.

He is still completely hopeless. It’s gonna take a lot more than healing for Toriel to fix this mess of a Prince.

At least he’s able to sit up straight on his own so that he can embarrass himself, so Toriel deserves a pat on the back for that.

She turns hers against Asgore.

“Um…”

Toriel sighs dramatically before rolling her eyes. “Pat it, my Prince.”

He does so.

Surprisingly comforting, to be honest. Really surprisingly. Wait, that’s not patting. What is he doing? His hands are…

Is he massagi-

Oh...

Oh yes, he is.

Right there!

“A bit further down,” she commands with her voice breaking midways.

YES!

“You’re gonna have to do this every single day to me, Asgore.”

//

She says that like it’s a threat or something.

As if.

“Least I can do after you healing me, Toriel.”

//

Damn straight!

Although…

“How’re you feeling after that?” she asks over her shoulder to Asgore kneading her back like she would high quality dough specially commissioned.

He meets her eyes underneath his thick and golden eyebrows. For a short while he hangs them on hers before returning his focus to his massage. “I feel fine, Toriel. Like I said, you healed me. Healed me completely.”

She did.

But…

“I know that, but… I feel that-”

Asgore hits a spot on Toriel’s back that has it instinctively straightening itself out like a Royal Guard’s sword pulled out in salute.

“Sorry!” he says in a panic before carefully trying to work his thumbs around the spot to ease it down.

No…

Don’t be…

Oh…yes…

What was Toriel about to say again?

Something that’s…not important right now.

She’ll get back to it once Asgore is done.

Hopefully never, that is.

She scoots closer to Asgore, pushing herself onto his lap to give him a better reach for his massage.

Where and when did he learn to do this?

Wait. Toriel can just-

“Where and when did you learn how to do this, Asgore?” Toriel asks through a relaxed hum as Asgore pushes in underneath her shoulder blades. She lets the relief flush throughout her for a couple of blissful seconds before her head turns around from Asgore’s thumbs pressuring her neck to angle itself around to give him a small peck on his mouth.

Just felt like the right thing to do.

//

“During the weeks which I had rigorous physical training for days on end, the only breather I got was when Gerson saw that my muscles were too tense and rigid to continue my training safely,” Asgore explains after a second of savoring the peck Toriel gave him. “I picked up on the technique as I lay there gasping between each determined push on my aching muscles.“ He navigates his hand up to Toriel’s neck, but he might as well have run his hand up the metallic lamp post next to the roof. “Your neck and shoulders are almost as tense as mine were.”

//

And just like that it comes flooding back to her like a dam been busted opened.

The worry.

“And they just got tenser?”

Yeah, guess they did.

“Asgore,” Toriel says with a conflicted sigh. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

His fingers stop on Toriel’s shoulders, laying still for a while before he continues.

“I don’t want to frighten you, Toriel.”

//

Even though he probably did by saying that.

Good job.

//

He did though, unfortunately, just by saying that.

“You didn’t come to me like how you were earlier because you had a choice.”

Asgore’s sigh wraps around Toriel’s neck and shoulders, but not as comforting as his fingers does. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why did I come down from the castle?”

“Couldn’t anyone else have healed you?”

Asgore hesitates to answer. His hands turn limp, and they almost slide off Toriel’s shoulders.

She catches them, and again turn her head around to meet him. His eyes are hollow once more, but this time he can meet hers on his own accord.

“No,” he says faintly. “No one else could.”

There’s really only one explanation for that. Toriel gently rocks her hands inside Asgore’s, tilting her head down to summon strength. Once gathered, she looks up again and faces his hollow eyes one more time. She drags a steadying breath.

“Do you love me that much, Asgore?”

Again he hesitates an answer. He must be afraid of what she’ll say in return. His actions from earlier today speak more than he ever could with words though, so he’s already answered her.

Now it’s her turn to answer him.

Toriel carefully closes her hands around his, hindering their scared quivering.

“Because I do,” she assures with warmth before leaning in for another kiss. A proper one this time.

Asgore meets it.

//

He does.

He loves her beyond anything else.

//

And so does she.

//

Toriel breaks her lips from Asgore’s after a long and soothing while. He feels his shoulder relax a bit, same as how Toriel’s feel now that Asgore can return to his massaging.

“Your friend, Toriel.”

“Jyuona?” she asks.

“She’s a good friend.”

Toriel nods. “She is. Not many monsters would stamp their feet in a crowded tavern and scream their lungs out for their friend to come out because said friend’s long lost love has come back.” She refreshes her mouth with another sip from her mead bottle. Asgore halts his hands so that she doesn’t choke if he accidentally pushes against another nerve. “I’ll thank her next time I see her.”

“I will too.”

“How did she find out you were in the back alley, by the way?”

“I...” Asgore clears his throat. Oh, it’s a bit dry. He refreshes it too with a swig of his own bottle. Unfortunately he mostly catches foam, but luckily it seems to be enough to clear up his throat. “No, she saw me entering the tavern. It’s all a haze to me so I’m not sure if I caught her first or she did.”

“Hm...” Toriel acknowledges without emotion. She spins the neck of her bottle around as she stares into nothing. “And then?”

“Before I could barely fathom who it was she threw her arm out and commanded me to go around back,” Asgore continues while grinding his thumbs softly at the base of Toriel’s neck. “I don’t even remember walking there, or standing there. Next thing I remember is your warmth and then waking up with my entire body screaming in pain.”

“So my healing-”

“It quickly disappeared,” Asgore interrupts. “I f-felt much better in an instant afterwards. I guess my soul had to wake up before it could begin spreading your healing around.”

Toriel nods absently, “I see,” as she takes the tiniest of drinks before returning to her distant gaze.

She still isn’t convinced that Asgore is feeling fully restored.

It must leak out of his aura like a colander with a rusty bottom. The worries that are still lingering even after his body and soul has been healed.

About...the humans. How overwhelming they were. How so far above they are. Just like how Mt. Ebott was casting its looming shadow over Asgore, so were the humans.

However, Ebott didn’t do it willingly. It’s been doing it for innumerable days, and no one has battered an eye.

No human, that is.

It was only when Asgore came, only when a monster of his caliber and magical prowess, that he noticed how dark the shadow was, and how looming the humans were. Just like Ebott.

They didn’t even mean for their aura to push Asgore’s to the breaking point, and then some. They were all blissfully unaware.

Or at least, that’s what Asgore hopes that they were. Did he keep his calm despite the constant bombardment? Did his unfazed facade fool the humans? What will happen if it didn’t?

“You see why I asked, Asgore?” Toriel asks without turning her head. She’s reading him like an open book without even looking at the pages penned with such a reluctant font.

Yup, he’s the rustiest of colanders alright…

Asgore sighs.

“What happened at the humans?”

Toriel’s question hangs in the cold night air like a Vulkin on a frozen pond. Any second it might break the ice, but it won’t be pretty.

How much is he willing to tell her?

Everything.

Everything is the answer. How could it not be?

He wants her, now, and in the future. Of course she needs to know.

But does she have to know?

Maybe she’s better off without knowing.

If he wants to jeopardize the future of the monsters, that is. It would be looking down his muzzle at her too, which is something he never can imagine himself doing.

Can never imagine, but apparently fully capable of, since he’s not telling her right now.

Well? Are you gonna?

Asgore takes a deep breath.

“I wasn’t at the clearest state of mind when I left for my travels,” he begins. Toriel turns around, taking his hands into hers and gently placing it on her lap as she listens with her entire body. “What we did the day before...”

Toriel looks down. “I’m sorry...”

No!

“No!” Asgore spouts hurriedly as he lifts up Toriel’s hands to his chest. “Don’t ever say that, Toriel. Never...” He swallows away a choke. “Never think of what we did as something bad. It was wonderful, Toriel.”

She throws her arms around Asgore, jumping into his embrace as she shoves her head underneath his golden clad chin. He lowers it over her head, being careful not to put weight on her horns.

//

“I thought...” Toriel tries to explain, but her words fail her. She drags his body closer to her instead as she lets out a clogged sob through her teeth. “I thought...”

“I’m here now, Toriel.”

She nods into his torso.

“I’m back.”

“I know!” she shouts into his fur to convince herself. “But...”

Asgore runs his cheek down onto Toriel’s, keeping it there for her to recognize his warmth. She does, but remembering the cold when it was missing is so-

“You see why I was hesitant to tell you, Toriel?”

She snivels.

“But if you say that you want to hear, then I’ll trust you.”

Another sob escapes Toriel before she can speak again. “I want to.” She swallows hard before exhaling calmly into Asgore’s chest. “I want to hear. I want to help you carry it.”

Asgore’s drags his muzzle over Toriel’s, and she does the same with her over his. The two join in a dance that lasts for a long minute. A long and wonderful minute.

“My thoughts were on you the entire way,” Asgore continues after Toriel returns his and her hands to her lap. “I imagined you sitting next to me, and it gave me strength along the journey.”

Toriel’s grip tightens around Asgore’s hands, pushing down into the fabric of her dress.

“You wore a purple dress in my mind, sitting next to me, keeping me company by talking. Not about the humans, or politics, or human politics, but about the weather. Anything but what my travels were taking me to I imagined us sharing together.”

//

Can Toriel imagine herself being there for real? At Asgore’s side, the two of them on a mission for their people?

Their people…

Jyuona, Krygino, mom, dad.

And all the others.

Asgore’s people, and Toriel’s people.

Yes, yes she can. To protect them all.

And to be next to Asgore.

//

“The travel was long, and each night I slept I could feel how colder it was being so far away from home, so far away from you, Toriel. My soul ached, but it was only aching at the time.”

Asgore’s eyes grow distant, and Toriel has to put her hand on his cheek for him to come back.

“I was crushed. So much weight fell over me. The humans with their auras was so overbearing I couldn’t...”

He can’t now either.

“But I had to.”

And he has to now.

“I weathered it, kept it hidden from the humans. They were so inviting, so eager to share with me their culture and for me to share mine. They showed me what they had accomplished. Mechanical clocks, glass that could magnify the night sky to be able to study in detail, alchemy. I was taken back at the sight. I wavered, but they took it as a sign of respect. Respect that I was given back when they asked me to demonstrate my magic.”

Asgore looks down at his hands. Toriel opens them up for him, to give them back to him, but he closes them tightly over hers.

“Their awes still ring in my mind as I summoned my trident. Their slacked jaws as I built my fire.”

“Went a bit better than your parade, I’m guessing,” Toriel offers to help alleviate some of the tension.

And Asgore can’t be more thankful for that.

He’d prefer the confusion of the fireball during his parade than the swelling worry he had at the human castle. Prefer it until the end times.

“For only a brief moment I felt equal to the humans, but that feeling was lost immediately as their auras crept back in. Their applauds rang hollow, even if their intention behind it was as warm as they could ever have it be. The weight that returned stifled it, like a mountain of sand upon the smallest ember, suffocating it completely.”

Asgore lets a small flame form in his withdrawn hand.

“How is this gonna compete with the humans?” he asks emptily.

//

Toriel knows.

“Like this, my Prince.”

She puts her hand underneath Asgore’s, and joins her fire with his. It grows, crackling with vigor, and the two Boss Monsters meet eyes.

“I’ll be there for your next journey, Asgore.”

He draws a gasp as she lets more of her magic meld with his.

Toriel puts her other hand over Asgore’s, letting their combined magic engulf it completely. “I promise you.”

//

Toriel…

She…

Asgore puts his other hand with Toriel’s, and the fire blossoms into a grand hearth that stretches itself as tall as he can stand!

“Thank you,” he says through a quivering sob. “Thank you!”

The two throw themselves together through the fire and the flames of their shared making. It bursts, crackling like a raging brazier as Asgore and Toriel embrace each other again.

//

And there it is.

//

Asgore feels it now.

He’s whole again.

And it’s thanks to Toriel.

The Boss Monster he’ll love forever.

His queen.

//

Toriel can’t help but feel proud. Joined in this fire of fires, together with the Boss Monster she loves, and will love forever.

Because what could ever dowse what’s blossoming between them?

Nothing.

//

Nothing.

//

Their fire will burn forever, and the entire kingdom will feel its warmth! Asgore, as king, and Toriel, as-

//

“Toriel?” Asgore asks worryingly as she recoils back as if startled. Her eyes turn vacant for a brief second. Did he put too much of his magic with hers?

“S-sorry,” she responds while shaking her head. “I...I just...”

Her hard swallow and clumsily dragged smile afterwards has Asgore leaning forward. “What is it, Toriel?”

She tilts her head away for a brief moment before lowering it onto the slates of the roof. “I’m...afraid, Asgore.”

He scoots forward, taking Toriel’s hand in his again. He can still feel the heat from the magic they just shared, but it’s fading. “About what?” he asks with hurry. Did he hurt her? Is she beginning to feel overly exhausted from her healing?

//

Toriel puts her free hand up to her opposite shoulder which she squeezes as she’s barely able to open her mouth. “I’m gonna...” She scoffs away the choking grasp that the words have on her throat. It’s not belief anymore, not a fairy story to be told, but the honest truth.

Doesn’t make the words any less strange on her tongue.

“I’m gonna be queen.”

Will they ever be?

When she healed Asgore the realization was nothing to her. In the moment it was clear as crystal to her that she’d become a queen in order to save him.

Now though, once things have calmed down a bit?

Toriel’s sigh is rugged, and Asgore quickly picks up on the wavering tones propagating throughout her entire body.

“You’re wise to be afraid of such burdens, Toriel.”

Not the best of starts there, Prince.

“That wisdom is the hallmark of a great queen. You’re humble, but you’re also aware of your strengths. It will be hard, but I say that because I don’t want to lie to you, Toriel. Please trust in that I will do everything to make sure that you’re welcomed and hailed with more grandeur than what I have, or will, ever receive.”

Toriel hears Asgore’s words, he hears his intention, but there’s something else she also hears. Something...different.

“Is it because you have to convince others that I’m worthy?”

Asgore’s face looks more hurt from Toriel’s question than what it did when it did before she could heal him earlier today. It hurts her to ask it as well. She doesn’t want these hesitations, yet she’s being washed away by them. 

She’s just a-

“You’re not just any monster, Toriel!” Asgore says in a tone more serious than she’s ever heard him have. Even more than when Gerson caught the two. His eyes peer into hers, deep into her very soul. It’s not in anger, it’s not in hate.

It’s in love.

“You’ve given me so much, Toriel, and you will give even more to the monsters we’re to inherit. You’ve come from the most humble of origins, and that our subjects will see. They will see one of their own on the throne. They will turn to each other and say that they could never imagine someone else on it, not even me. You have nothing to be afraid of except your doubts, Toriel, but the fact that you have them is comforting to me. I don’t want a queen that’s eager to jump onto the throne without thinking about it first, and even with my brief time spent with the common monsters, the brief moment during the parade where all their hearts beat the same as mine, I know that they don’t want an eager queen as well. Eager in her duties, yes,” Asgore adds with a sheepish shrug, “but not for her title.”

Toriel leans into Asgore’s chest, and he puts her chin down on her head again.

“You’ve made a prince fall in love with you, Toriel, and that’s no small feat. Being a queen is no small feat either. You have experience with mountainous feats though, and that not even I have.”

“The humans...” Toriel retorts with pain. “The humans, Asgore?”

“I never could’ve done my mission without you.”

Is that true?

“I love you, Toriel.”

Yes, it is true.

“I love you too, Asgore.”

Asgore smiles as he raises his bottle. 

“To us, then.”

Toriel raises her as well.

“To us.”

They both lean their bottles to their lips.

 

And immediately after throw them away.

The two Boss Monsters shove their hands up to their scorching lips. Their bottles roll away, empty, as the heat from their combined fire evaporated what mead was left inside, and turned the lip of the bottles blazing hot. The bottles bounce and clink down the slates on the roof like a small percussion, drumming along rhythmically with each new layer of slate denoting different tones that ring out against the silent of the newborn night. When they reach the storm drain their necks dive in, flipping the glass bottle up in the air, somersaulting as they fall down to the cobblestone path underneath. Two loud crashes speed into the night, making themselves known far and wide.

The two Boss Monsters glance at the other.

They begin to snicker.

Then giggle.

Then laugh.

Then howl.

Asgore and Toriel fall into each other’s arms as their roaring guffaws echoes throughout the neighborhood. They can hear windows open all around them, but they haven’t the slightest care about that!

Care or not, they should probably get out of there…

The shanty ladder from the roof shakes even more as Toriel and Asgore fail miserably to stifle their laughs on the way down. Their chortles continue as they sneak...try to sneak...around the back alleys.

They emerge onto the streets a few blocks away from the shop, finally having mustered enough strength to calm their laughter.

“We might have to stop seeing each other like this, Prince,” Toriel chuckles out before turning her step down the path, and-

A large hand is placed on her shoulder.

She turns around to Asgore smiling endearingly as if he’s just caught her slipping on her dress. He turns his head slowly towards the castle, and Toriel does the same.

“G-guess I’ll h-have to r-remember to head up instead of d-down from n-now on,” she says while putting her hand over Asgore’s on her shoulder.

“I’ll be here to help you,” he assures while rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “You ready?”

Yes, she is.

Because she’ll be with him.

“W-w-h-hat if-”

“They won’t,” Asgore answers.

“But w-what if-”

“You won’t.”

Toriel tries to laugh it off, but it does little to help.

//

Asgore can’t really blame her for acting like this. He knows that she’ll come around to it though. That he has no doubt about. She’ll be the best queen this...country...has…

//

W-why did he stop?

“A-Asgore?”

//

Perfect.

Asgore takes a step back to reveal the poster hanging on the community billboard.

“Nose Nuzzle Championship,” Toriel reads slowly. She tilts her furrowed head up to Asgore, who smiles back warmly.

“Do you want to ease yourself into being a smaller queen before becoming a real one?”


	28. A future to form

“You’ve been sitting here for quite a while now.”

The priestess bends one of her long ears towards the voice walking up to her bench overlooking the Royal Gardens. A sweet and sour aroma dances over to her nose, and she takes a hefty sample of it through a solemn inhale. Along with it, the fresh autumn air blended with the late blooming of the various colorful trees makes acquaintances inside her lungs, and she exhales after a long while of enjoying how the chilled air swirls inside her throat and lungs.

“Brought you some tea.”

The priestess takes the offered cup in her hands with a soft “Thank you.” The warmth radiating fromit warms her hands comfortably, spreading up her arms and meeting the chilled air inside her torso. The clashing temperatures meld together into a sedative, calm, and just enough of a glow to just sit and enjoy with self invited, yet still very much welcomed, company without any worries.

The steel bench quakes for a brief moment as Gerson sits down into it with a formal exhale. He leans forward on his knees, and takes a careful sip from his own cup of steaming tea. “How long have the two been in the gardens?” he asks after letting the tea spread throughout him.

“Far longer than I’ve been sat here,” the priestess informs with a small chuckle that has her ears bending with each humorous bounce. “And my scales might turn like the leaves on those human trees if I sit here any longer.”

Gerson decides it’s better that his mouth is occupied with his tea rather than with commenting on what Frioke just said.

“Haven’t caught them like you did just yet, Gerson,” Frioke continues before taking her first drink. A small gust just passed on by, and she needs to compensate for that to keep the comforting, and very delicate, temperature inside her.

“You haven’t felt their auras, I’m assuming,” Gerson pries as he leans over the cast iron fence on the rim of the overlook. He gazes down towards the vast green, yellow, and red landscape landscaped with such artistry. The King has done much on it. Must’ve had a lot to think about this last summer. He doesn’t usually need a lot of time to think to himself, but the splendor of the Royal Garden does tell of his troubled mind.

For each beautifully trimmed hedged there is a worry behind it. Each meticulously arranged flower bed has been fertilized not only with magic, but also heavy sighs and thoughtful muttering. The pavilion practically woven with clinging vines blooming like the King caught a rainbow and used it to decorate must’ve been made during his son’s travel to the human kingdom.

Gerson wonders if Asgore will take up gardening the same way his father has.

The perfectly crafted leafs dance in the wind, casting kaleidoscopic shadows that sway with the tiniest of delays after their casters. Each minute movement Gerson catches with his honed eyes, but whether it’s the crisp autumn wind making the tree crowns dance, or the frolicking of the two Boss Monsters set to marry next year, he can’t tell.

He might be the leader of the Royal Guard, and the most decorated monster in the land, but there are some form of physical exercise he’s still lacking knowledge of.

All of a sudden he’s warming up without having drunk his tea for a while.

Strange...

“No, I haven’t,” Frioke answers after a quiet moment to feel for the springily pairs’ auras among the autumn winds. “Although, it could also mean that they’ve taken my lessons to soul about controlling their auras.” While she’s searching through the winds, she takes the opportunity to inhale some more of it.

It’s such a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing as they remind their kin to fly south. Flowers are blooming their last of the year, calling out for harvest. On days like these, it would be such a shame to be inside.

Good thing Frioke’s not!

Even she needs some time away from all the scrolls and books. To sit in solemn silence slowly skimming scrolls sans stooped stirrings. She’d never want anything else in her life, it’s her calling and answer. However, with the library now being the librabry from last weeks sign screw up she’s had some slight reservations towards it these last weeks. Even if it is her favorite place in all of the castle, it does bring with it a bit of an irritating musk this time of year. The scrolls and books haven’t really gotten used to the humidity yet, and it gives Frioke some headache from time to time.

Nothing a good dose of fresh autumn air can’t fix. Coupled with hot tea as well?

Not even the library, correctly spelled, can hold a candle to this.

Gerson drags a smile as he turns his head around to Frioke. “I can’t feel any pride in your aura about it,” he informs. “And here I was led to believe that Toriel took your schooling very much to her liking.”

“I have to take my lessons to my own soul first before I go about teaching it, Sir Gerson,” Frioke retorts before enjoying another drink of tea. “And you should too now that you have some free time on your hands.”

“You and I have different definitions of free, my dear priestess.”

“That we do,” Frioke agrees with a quiet nod. “Which is why the King chose the two us, wasn’t it?”

Gerson halts his cup at the touch of his lips. His brow sinks as his head tilts up in thought. “My memory tells me it was because the King sought us as the two opposite sides of what he wanted his son to be. I can’t remember his highness asking us what we defined as free.”

Frioke waits patiently for her bench partner to finish his thoughtful drink, wrapping another layer of her scarf around her neck as the wind picks up. A leaf torn from one of the human trees finds its way along the flow of the dancing winds and lands on her shoulder like a patch of some far flung northern division of the Royal Guard. “The King told us we were free to go after his briefing,” Frioke begins while tilting her head to the leaf stuck on her purple robe’s shoulder as if painted on with an expert brush.

A bright orange on a dark purple. Like a sunset against a cloudless late summer night.

“That he did,” Gerson agrees as he peels the leaf off Frioke’s shoulder. He spins the stem between his finger before placing it inside Frioke’s scarf.

She smiles as thanks. “I left when he said that, and you stayed, Gerson.”

“That I did...” Gerson says with a couple of solemn nods. He returns to his cup, which he rubs the rim of after another careful savor. “That I did.”

“Will you take issue with me suggesting that I would school you in keeping tab on your own aura?” Frioke offers casually now that Gerson’s aura has flared up more so than what the head chef does when Gerson insists on suggesting improvements for the spice blend.

Like a brazier out of control.

An involuntary chuckle escapes Gerson. “Never really had the time for that. Learned myself as I went along my tours and duties.” He turns to Frioke with a warm smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“I don’t want to imply anything, Gerson,” Frioke answers with a warm smile of her own. “I’m just giving you a friendly offer.”

Gerson sees the same knowing smile he used himself when training Asgore. Frioke must’ve picked up the residue from Asgore’s aura after Gerson’s training. “It’s really strange seeing this from the other side.”

“I can imagine,” Frioke snickers. “Asgore almost caught me one time when my mind wandered to-”

Oh...

That even Gerson can feel.

“You might have to school yourself first, priestess,” Gerson teases with a sly wink.

“I’m only a monster,” she replies.

Gerson sighs against the wind. “So are we all.” He leans back heavily onto the backrest of the bench while he breathes in from the passing gust.

Down the garden the two young Boss Monsters are enjoying their own set of tea. Toriel still insists on cooking on her own accord when she gets the chance. No one in the castle has had the heart, soul, or stomach to remind her that she’s an heir now. Frioke and Gerson can still catch a faint whiff of her soup being cooked somewhere underneath the kaleidoscope of colorful canopies stretching like a sea of rainbows across the entirety of the Royal Gardens.

“It’s no wonder she caught the interest of Asgore,” Frioke says before refreshing her mouth. “Quickest way to a man is through his stomach, as they say.”

Gerson offers Frioke a refill which she gladly accepts. “That story is gonna go down in legend, that I’m sure of.”

“A lot of legends those two are gonna form,” Frioke agrees. “Especially from the world they’re gonna inherit and lead their people through. I wish them all the luck in that.” She sighs worryingly, almost knocking away the leaf in her scarf. “I just hope that I’ve done everything I could for them when the time comes.”

“And if not, then we’ll be there for them when the time comes,” Gerson adds. “If the time comes, I should say. Less foreshadowing if I say that, I feel. Don’t want to imply harm before their reign has even started.”

“You’re right,” Frioke nods to Gerson’s knowing tilt of his head. “I shouldn’t be thinking like that. It’s mostly because I’ve been trying to organize together some of the...less...hopeful chapters in the history section of the library this past week.” She drags a calming inhale while keeping her eyes closed. “I’ll be done later today,” she says along with her exhale shortly after. “I’ll be fine until my lesson with the heirs tomorrow.”

“Glad to hear that.”

That sigh Frioke just dragged was quite a deep. It’s quite seldom she does that. And the way her ears hang like that down her cheeks…

Maybe some cheering up might be in order, Gerson reckons as he rubs his hands on his warm cup. There’s no one else around at the moment so he only has to swallow his pride in front of one. A worthy sacrifice, in his opinion.

After another comforting drink of his tea, of course.

“I’ve always envied you in a way.”

“In a way?” Frioke challenges. “Only one?”

“When the King assigned us our orders, you left when he gave you them. I didn’t.”

“You didn’t.”

Gerson might’ve repeated himself there, but it’s necessary for him to continue. He has to ease himself into this. Can’t just dive in.

Not this time.

“I looked over my shoulder at the door, the King’s presence hovering above me like a thick cloud that I cowered from, fearing the loud thunder that would strike me like...well...thunder. He repeated that I was dismissed for the moment and that I should take some lunch while he fetched Asgore, but I stood still. I spoke out against his decision,” Gerson whispers, the fresh breeze rolling around him carrying it over to Frioke’s ears, which curl as the words are like icicles. Cold and truthful. Taken from the depths of his soul, with no time given to warm up as he sent them out from his tongue. “I doubted his choice.”

Frioke drinks slowly from her tea, but the cold from Gerson’s words still reside, like frostbite, with teeth like razor ice, biting deep into her ears.

From Gerson, of all monsters, with this deep doubt. Who could’ve thought? Who would’ve believed?

No one.

“I don’t know which emotion he expressed, even to this day, even after having thought about it for so long. Disgust? Anger? Fear? Confusion?” Gerson’s eyes move into a horizon of his own making, beyond the one hidden behind the marble white castle walls, obscured by the dancing whirlwind of the colored leafs ripped away from their branches by the same gust that carried Gerson’s words to Frioke. His words stopped at her though, whereas the leafs fly further, beyond the marble walls, maybe even to the horizon beyond it. They may fly free as far as the wind carries them.

But they’ll never reach the horizon Gerson’s eyes are upon.

The dark clouds gathering over yonder, contrasting hard against the white walls like an uneven match of that human game, chess. Those clouds…

Those ones have already reached where Gerson is.

“Maybe it was betrayal?” Gerson asks the air around him. A faint glow builds inside his hand, and a cyan hammer carefully forms as if not trusting itself to exist. “His appointed hammer questioning him when he needed it to smith his son to become a ruler fit for the world he was born into. To be tempered enough to withstand the weather and rust that would shower him throughout his life.”’

The hammer fades away just as silent as it formed.

“He’d never given me an order before that day. He’d asked me to help him carry this world with him, but never ordered me to.” Gerson returns back to this world as the dark clouds part for the briefest of moment, akin to a pair of heavy theater curtains opening to let out the director for the introduction. His right eye flinches as the sun hits it with all its sudden might.

“Are you fine?” Frioke asks worryingly.

Gerson nods. “It’s gonna take more than a bit of sun to break these honed instruments,” he laughs, but it immediately morphs into a frown, casting his face in a sharp shadow as he tilts his head down.

“That day,” he says quietly. “That day he gave me the only order he’s ever given to me. Train my son, he said. Train my son to surpass me, Sir Gerson. That is an order, he punctuated. He was forced to order me, he was forced to remind me that he was the King. We’d been friends up till then, but at that moment he became ruler, and I a subject. The King sighed afterwards, and before he began to speak again, I already knew why he ordered me.”

A hammer once again forms in Gerson’s hands, and he clenches it in his hand. “Because I won’t be strong enough to face the humans, the King told me.”

Frioke’s head tilts over towards the large castle hall where the King is enjoying supper with his loving Queen. No doubt talking about Asgore and Toriel, their replacements.

Doubt…

Is that what’s in the shadows that Frioke’s been catching in each and every corner of the castle during her service here? Shadows even in the most brightly lit of halls and chambers, with nothing to cast them. Nothing physical, that is. Only for a brief moment they’d been let slip, but many briefs make a while, and even if it takes a long while, she was bound to notice.

Never could she place that doubt, those sharp shadows formed not out of something blocking a light, but an absence of it. It’s a mysterious sight, not something anyone would believe if you spoke about it. How could it be real?

But when you began questioning if you saw them, when you began doubting yourself that they were even real to begin with, another would form in the corner of your eye, as if trying to escape, but running into the edges of your peering and narrowed eyeballs as it tried, giving you just enough time to notice that you saw it.

That most of them were brought to life by the King would explain a lot. His soul. If there was any monster soul that could manifest itself as such, it would be his.

Or his son’s…

Frioke would’ve recognized if they were from Asgore though, right?

Oh! There’s one forming again. Just there. Can you see it?

Well, if you’re unsure, one’s surely to pop up again very soon for you to spot.

Gone like a sneeze in a thunderstorm, dammit!

“I’d always glimpsed you during my stay at the castle in between my tours,” Gerson voices with a hum. “I didn’t think much of you at the time, you were one priestess out of many, but when the King gave you the order to see to his son’s education and magical growth, you left when dismissed to begin preparing.”

Another shadow at Gerson’s feet, at his heel which he taps in an attempt to calm himself.

“If you’re implying that I didn’t have any reservations about my assignment I’m afraid I have to disappoint you, Gerson,” Frioke informs sternly, but not harshly. Just enough so that Gerson knows she’s being serious.

She’s gonna get rid of these shadows one way or another. She’ll have the castle bright and devoid of shadows for when Asgore and Toriel ascend the purple. They’re gonna have their hands full enough with the humans to go hunt corner shadows.

“I have no doubts about you having doubts, Frioke. What you did have more than me though...was faith.” Gerson turns his head towards the large door leading into the castle. “Faith in the King’s choices.”

“You lack faith in the King?” Frioke asks to clarify. “Doubt I can understand, but faith? The King has-”

“No,” Gerson interrupts with a conflicted sigh. He rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “I should rephrase myself.”

Frioke gives him time to.

“Maybe it was more the King’s lack of faith...” Gerson mutters out, but without Frioke catching any new shadows forming. “If he chose me, then he needed the best for his son.” Gerson shakes his head. “I’m sounding like I’m tooting for my own salute, aren’t I?”

“Not from what you’ve accomplished during your service,” Frioke assures with a determined nod. “If anything, you’re underselling yourself. Like a majestic eagle flying among the streets instead of in the clouds because he thinks people will strain their neck to look up at him.”

An amused chuckle escapes Gerson’s mouth almost in a scoff. “That’s the most artful way I’ve heard that described to me.”

“I aim to please,” Frioke winks back.

“And please you do, priestess.” Gerson bows his head towards Frioke. “Thank you.”

He then allows the fresh autumn wind to refill his lungs. “While I do believe that the King wants nothing but the best for his son, I’m hesitant against his reasoning behind that choice. If it is what I suspect, almost what I fear, then it might point to our conversation we had during our travel back from the human kingdom to not be mere exaggerations, but factual prediction of things to come. Not that Asgore _should_ have the best to train and school him, but that he _has_ to have the best to train and school him, otherwise he’s set to fail even before he ascends.”

Frioke tilts her head towards where she thinks she feels the auras of the to be wedded royal heirs. She accompanies it with a solemn nod. “So it all comes back to the humans...”

Laughter, almost indistinguishable from the shivering leafs, as if planned to not be noticed, flutters out of the garden. The two Boss Monsters are carefree in this moment. Whatever the two do, it’s only for themselves, only for their own want and will. Carefree to the world outside of themselves, but with care inexhaustible for each other.

Savor it.

Savor it to remember when things turn dark. Remember the fire that burns inside. The flames of love, the light of affection. Let it rage against the dark should it come to try and separate. No! Nothing will ever tear apart what the two have built!

Who would ever allow that?

“And lead us to a prosperous future,” Gerson whispers.

“I’ve heard that prayer before,” Frioke recollects with a careful and thoughtful furrow to her already wrinkled brow to keep her warm. “But, isn’t it a human one?”

Gerson nods. “They’re gonna need the strength of which for their future reign,” he explains. “I was taught it by a priest during one of my diplomatic deployments. I was appointed to the garrison of the castle Asgore visited a few years before he was born. Met a very reverential man who could do nothing but smile at my tales of my homeland during the few moments he could convince the human king to have me as his escort. He was a good man.”

Was…

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Frioke offers. Her condolence is from her entire soul, and she lets that be known through her aura.

“He was old, had spent his entire life in prayer, and had never seen a monster in his life.” Gerson reaches inside his coat, revealing a magnifying glass that he spins in his hand. Reflections of the lowering sun drag bright streaks across his face as he smiles with nostalgia blooming like the apple trees that the heirs surely have picked from by now.

“He gifted me this,” Gerson says somberly as the smile drains from his face. “Told me he’d used it to help him read now that his life had gone into late autumn, to understand better the texts he’d spent his days studying. Books that he’d dismissed as being hard to read became clearer after he’d acquired this tool. My guess is that he was quick to catch onto my...reservations against the humans when I first arrived. He didn’t need magic to understand what I was thinking. He could read me even without the magnifying glass, he said.”

Frioke can’t help but giggle at the distorted visage formed through the lens Gerson holds up in front of his face.

“Forgive me,” she apologizes.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Gerson assures as he brings the magnifying back to his coat. “The priest asked me to considered looking at my doubts about the humans through his magnifying glass, and maybe find details that I couldn’t before. Maybe I’d give me another perspective, and maybe it would give me a bit more clarity as to why and what my doubts were grounded in. I’ve kept it close by me ever since.”

“Sounds like he was a good man to you, Gerson.”

“He was, and there have been plenty of humans like him in my life. Many I’d like to meet again, but many I can’t due to my title and responsibilities. The wedding will probably be the last time I see many of them.”

“Have you sent out the invitations yet?” Frioke pries. She’s gleaned the penmanship Gerson’s used for those, and how his brute and dull hands can make such intricate and minuscule touches is certainly remarkable. He must treat it like a sword fight, a theathre of blades, but with pen instead.

“Not yet,” Gerson sighs out. “I’ve yet to finish the monster invitations, but steady on the letters flow.”

Frioke catches Gerson flexing his fingers.

“With the latest shipment of purple wax I saw arrive yesterday I’d wager that you have your work cut out for you, Sir Gerson.”

He sighs again.

“Do let me know if you want to meditate away some of that,” Frioke informs friendly while holding her empty cup for Gerson to refill.

“I might take you up on that offer,” he answers while filling up Frioke’s and his cup with more tea.

“For the new Royal Couple?” she proposes while lifting her cup to meet his.

Gerson gladly accepts that offer.

“For the new Royal Couple.”

 

 

Through the Lord Leader Of The Royal Guard Sir Gerson Steduto Gacarea,

by the King and Queen’s favor,

and by the wishes of the, to be wedded, Royal Heirs,

The Reader Of Archivusthree

is invited to attend the Royal Wedding of

His Royal Heir Apparent Asgore Dreemurr

conjoined with his chosen

Royal Soul Mate Toriel Dreemurr, Duchess Of Jarasevo,

during the summer solstice of next year

at Jarasevo Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!
> 
> If you're hungering for more to read, feel free to check out my other series "One Falls, More Rise" set post Undertale TP where memories are the bad guy, and electric wheelbarrows have character arcs!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me in the [Fanfic Paradise Discord server.](https://discord.gg/sXVXy7w) I frequent it daily, so if you fancy, hop in and have a chat. Be seeing you there!


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